Everything He Said Was Mostly True

I'm busy looking for another way of making money so I can feed my comedy addiction, so here's a wrap up from last night.

Yes, Shoogs B and I were surrounded by some really hawt women when we got to Weirdos last night. I don't know why. Probably because our personalities and humor overshadow our amazingly handsome faces, so the women can look deeper than what's on the surface. One of the hawtties is a co-worker of mine, and we co-miserated on the Death Star's future. Major Company run into the ground and handed over while the body's still warm. Tell me again why I'm motivated to work here?

The girl in the braids, Marcella, has been lurking around Peg's and Weirdos for the last year. Last night she came over to chat with me, absent was the guy she's usually with. Either she's shy (uh, not in that low-cut of a top) or just broke up and was getting RIPPED. She had a pint glass of amber liquid that loosened one of my fillings. Hope she got home from the hospital okay.

I SWEAR THE GUY IN THE "LIQUID" CAP WAS A MIDGET. It's not unproven. I kept looking at his necklace for the Ring that in the darkness shrinks them. He looked like Chunk from The Goonies, but 27 and smoke-damaged. No more sideburns of unkempt status, okay fellas? It's 2004.

I have a new opening bit that is me, fully, and will go on to be the best opener I have for the next 2 months, or as long as it's sunny. Topical, yes, but isn't everything, including your ointments?

I'm beginning to work on an act that deals with Perspective, the importance of it, and how to get it. If I can make Perspective funny, I will quit comedy and everyone can kiss my honeybaked ham.

There's something comforting about a black lesbian comedian, and it's not that we have the same taste in women.

If you were born after 1965 and call yourself a "hippie," everyone else is calling you "irresponsible" and/or "stinky."

Beer Me,
Geoff

Christmas Gift Idea #1
I missed another great opportunity to cash in on self-aggrandizement backfiring! Now I can re-enact it anytime... not as fun, but I may take it. It takes two, baby.

A Day You Needn't Work Through
Let's address the fact that it's as perfect a March day as we're ever going to get in Washington, and we're all stuck in front of computers. I bet the company I work for could do without me today. I've been here most every day this year, and our stock is STILL getting its loss-margin handed to it by the Little Mermaid Coffee Company.
If my efforts aren't rocketing this company to any better than 1/3rd the stock price (13.50:37.50) of a retail outfit whose accessories include stuffed animals and Cranberry-Oatmeal-Potpourri Dreamcakes, then I think it's better that I take the day to re-assess my direction.
And by "re-assess" I mean go for coffee and write some jokes on the sad state of the Cellular Communications industry in this country. Fastest wireless data network? BAH to the text messaging! I drop calls in the same building the billing system runs from. Scone me.

Effective Management By Paranoia
The company I work for (I won't say it's "my company" as I sold my stock long ago and thus have no vested interest in its non-future) is in the mode of being purchased by another major player in the industry.
Today I sent a note to a friend of mine at the purchasing company, completely unrelated to work, much like the second half of my yesterday. The note was about one of her favorite performers, Prince, putting on a show at the end of this month and broadcasting it all over the nation to movie theaters.
I received an immediate response to my note! It read:
*** Due to the pending (Dipass Company Name Deleted) acquisition, your email message has been quarantined for review by the Legal Department of (Much Better-Run Company Name Deleted) Wireless . No action on your part is necessary. The data is (another CYA move, name deleted) and the action is Quarantined based on sender domain. ***
I feel like the substitute teacher caught me passing a note and wants me to come to the head of the class and read it aloud, and I'm not real cool widdit. This is usually where I do just that, then spend the next 3 days at home writing the 1500-word essay "I Will Respect The Substitute Teacher By Not Hanging a B.A. and Then 'Taking The Class Picture' When My Teacher Is Gone." In my mind the legal departments will look at the note and pass it on. In reality, they're staking out my place right now, tapping my phones, and rappelling through my windows, hoping to stop me before I make it as far as the Lake Forest Park Barstucks. Hey… You never saw me here.

GOOD NIGHT BALLARD! GOOD NIGHT FOREVER!
I had the good fortune of spending a few hours with my friends Crash Helmet and JohnnySuperstar last night, doing some comedy at an open mic in Ballard. Ballard is like San Francisco minus the name-brand designer shops, but all the passive-pretense as to their own hipness. Comedy was interspersed throughout the roster, with Johnny going first, then a poet and a musical act, then Crash, then a couple other gut-wounded-by-Love-and-Too-Much-Indie-Emo/Ani DiFranco-Influenced musical acts, then the Geoffmaster General here.
As the night kicks off we're told that a randomly-selected number of audience members will judge each performance, and the "winner" gets to "open" for some crappy two-fruit band ("Blowdog and Sneezy" or whatthefuggever) next Wednesday at the Blue Moon tavern. The Blue Moon, by the way, is not a gig you take when things are going well.
These spoils to the victor, First Prize, which apparently I win on sheer talent and the ability to captivate a quickly-drunkening (it's close enough to a word, shuddit) crowd of non-sexuality-decisive Ballardians. I don't care if someone's gay, straight, or Andy Dick, be who you are, but don't act like it's a fad and fashionable. Bad sideburns are all the rage on Ballard Ave. Say it with me… ''AND THAT'S JUST THE WOMEN!''
So yeah, I win the dumb thing and figure that I'm supposed to open the show for no money and no freebies at the Blue Moon. Last Place got an envelope filled with the overwhelming relief that they don't feel a weird obligation to open for Blowhole and Chewy at a bar that has a Lost and Found for livers and hope. Shucks, Blowgun and Droopy, looks like I can't make it. I have a date with Self-Esteem, and she's a fickle minx.

Extra Foam
I kid you not, I think I found my next job while checka-checkin' out the Bean Machine's website. The job is what I'm doing now, sans executive BS and Whistling Short People. Yes, I sit next to one of the Seven Dwarves. He was removed from the original story, but "Distracty" would have gotten a Soap-Sock Code Red by the Second Act anyway. Laugh and the world laughs with you. Whistle and you're a dick.

Pegasus tonight. Be there…
Geofferson

This is America... Anybody Can Be Famous!

Is This What The Kids Are Wearing These Days?
This speaks for itself. It says "This Prom Ain't The Only Thing Kickin'."
http://www.uglydress.com/pregpromdres.html


The Morning So Far
I rocketed straight from bed at the time of 8:17am! Within 15 minutes and one hour I was out the door to work! Lungs drawing in deep, full breaths of newly-stirred ethers 'round my visage. I stroll down the steps to the garage, peering across to the parking lot of the Long-Haul Trailer Repair Yard near my apartment building.
The morning stillness wrapped around their rumbling engines as diesel exhaust poured into the sky. YES, this is living!
I sauntered to my car and then drove to work, nothing happened on the way to work, nothing to mention, other than I would have run this one dipsh*t off the road if it were just he and I. Yeah, swerve into my lane a little more whilst you dial TalkRadio to give your opinion on legalizing marriage between homosexuals. Because the Puget Sound area needs to hear what you, Mr. AmericanFlag&BedLiner, Calvin peeing on a Chevy symbol, Fear This! (because he gots no insurance!) has to say about Love, Honor, and Spousal Abuse.
I have yet to reach my desk at this point, and I'm dreading that today will quickly spiral like the others. I ditch the elevator idea and head up the stairs. The stairwell smells like sweatsocks, curry, and/or despair. I turn to hit the second flight, and a rather slightly-built man is walking down. I'm a broad-shouldered, solidly built man with a few years of contact sports under my belt, not to mention strong peasant hips, good for pushing and hoisting. Knowing this and not being a total a-hole, I try to side-step a bit so I don't "accidentally" throw a shoulder into Bones Bonerman, although the ego on his face screams for it. But this is WORK, it's inappropriate.
I figure that I moved, he'll try and move a little too so we don’t slam… BOMP, he didn't move and we knock into each other, my shoulder just above his elbow. As he reels back a bit (I swear I didn't force the shoulder into him) I have a split second where I think that maybe it was my fault. Then I realize No, I've done my part by moving a little and turning a bit, this is a two-way street, and He of The Spider-like Limbs crossed the center lane. Instead of saying "sorry" I said "ooops, y'okay?" He didn't say anything and kept moving. Things are looking up.
I get to my cubicle (a.k.a. The WrapAround Demoralizer 4000-BS) and remember that I'm not a Free Range Human. I sweat it not, as I have a protein shake and some oatmeal to tide my cravings and burn off that stubborn belly of mine. The weirdness picks up immediately, like somebody had turned the car off in the middle of a song that makes my belly-button bleed, and CLICK, we're right back to the chorus.
Next to me is a hypochondriac who is likely allergic to mohair, yet owns at least a Baker's Dozen of these disgusting cat hair-infused garments. Sniffy, sniff… oh good, Sweater Vest is in a bad mood, too. Phone calls are shorter… and they aren't nervous-giggling through every conversation; I think I like the downside of ManicDepression in this one. Hopefully she stays "homepathic" and never quite gets past the stage of wearing clogs to work for an entire month.
Then my cellular telephone's display did that thing again where it cuts the words in half, then flips the bottom and top halves so the tops and bottoms of letters touch each other. If you need to call me, please have a Klingon do it, 'cause I don't know that hell is going on with this thing. Wondrous Technological Advances aside, this thing is an a$$hole.
So yeah, the first half of my day has been pretty normal, actually. Pray for me.

Lady, Nobody with Them Eyebrows Gots No Millyun Dollars
A possibly inbred but definitely and fiercely unattractive woman in Georgia attempted to pay for $1,671 worth of goods at a WalMart with a Million dollar bill. Read that sentence once or twice more to get the full effect, because it sums up 2 demographics so concisely even Anna Nicole Smith would understand it by the 3rd explanation. 1)WalMart Shoppers 2)Ugly people.
The ugliness may not feed into the decision-making process, but if you've ever been discriminated against on your looks, and we all have, you know that being unattractive is almost always a precursor to crimes of stupidity.
She tried to walk with $1700 worth of wares, from a WalMart! That is a lot of stirrup pants, Scrunchees ™, and crème-filled snacks. and uses a "novelty" MillionDollar bill to pay for it. I am positive she was not goofing WalMart, she really thought she'd get away with it! She not only made herself look stupid, but she drew forth an interesting dilemma: She insulted the intelligence of the WalMart staff, as if they'd actually fall for it… but they very well may have were it not for a manager being near-by to halt the transaction.
Plus, the One Millionth Customer there had 2 more of the bills in her purse. Her husband had givent them to her, according to her story. Oh sure, blame it on the husband, just cause he cain't work no more since his back done gone give out after he fell off the roof. No, he wudn't roofin', unless by "roofin' " y'all mean "drinkin' and shootin' squirrel and Indian-wrasslin' his brother Timmy Ray. Then yeah, he's a-roofin'." Is that too harsh? Before you answer, remember that a child in the world was just taken from their village to pay the parent's debts. Now explain harsh to me, Judgy Judgerson.


I'm going to lunch now. I will probably go get some sort of Grilled Veggies and Chicken at the Mongolian Grill in Woodinville, free advertising because they have water chestnuts! More than anything I hope it's going to stink to Holy Heaven when I sit back down at my desk with it. I'm talking about recreation doses of garlic, people. Hopefully my date will be ready, cuz we rollin' with the MillionDollar club today!

~Peace Out
Geoffers

"I'M A WEINER DOG!" ~Geoff "Shoogs B" Brousseau

Speaking Of Inappropriate

The Boston Whistler is still doing all he can to make it known that they are in the building at all times. Be it a link-less train of notes whistling through a corridor of lay-off worries and bad coffee or decimating a bathroom, the BW is all about making noise. It's bad enough that we all have to hear it, but I feel worse for the women. They have to deal with this, possibly for an average of 30-cents less an hour. By the end of the week, it would've been better if he'd just stared at their PosTit Notes for a second too long at yet another "Team Builder" activity (read: milkshakes at the Ranch Drive-Inn).

Yet I feel a need to be unctuous. He's got his self an office! He must be real important! I think he should have the same Open Door Policy as every other office dweller 'round these parts. "If the door is open, please shut it."
And I ain't just whistlin' "Dixie." Ever.
He just completed 4 bars of a Mozart piece… Whistling Mozart. Good thing he's working for a cellular communications outfit. He reminds me of a cellular telephone in a library. Noxious tones ring forth at inopportune moments, alerting those around them of the owner's lack of environmental awareness, and never a Slient Button when you need one.

We Got Ribs For Sale All Month Long

Some guy's been cutting up cadavers at the UCLA medical school and selling them to "Corporate Clients." (note to self: no more Tony Roma's this year) I'm betting my company bought extra lips so the Executives could kiss their own asses.
At least now we know how much an arm and a leg really costs.
http://news.yahoo.com/news?tmpl=story2&cid=2026&u=/latimests/20040308/ts_latimes/mansayshesolduclascadavers&printer=1

Road Tripping

I spent the weekend in the city of the Sate Capital, Olympia, and had one of the finest chill weekends of my life.
White Chicken Chili was on the menu for Friday night. It's as good a dish as I've had in a long time. Prepped with the capable and caring hands of "M," currently being consumed as my lunch. "M" rocks. That's all you need to know for now.
I caught the latest Quentin Tarantino flick, "Kill Bill, Vol. 1" while I was there, and I tells ya… it was very Tarantino. Take that however you like. Good movie, but the soundtrack makes you wanna Tae-Bo everything on your credenza. It's invigorating.
Olympia is also a pretty liberal city, judging from the number of tattoo parlors and unkempt sideburns. I won't ever be a nappy facial-hair guy. It's how I was raised, to look clean and free of chiggers.
And right now I'd rather be on a boat drinking with "M" and my friends than sitting in front of a damn computer.
This, too, is Perspective.

To Know Me Is To Wonder What's Wrong With Me

I am fully realizing myself more and more, and it's pretty dang entertaining. While waiting for "Kill Bill, Nerds In Paradise," to start the other night, 40 minutes late while the 7 VW-van-loads of neuveau hipster-dirt sauntered in, an employee of the theater came forth to apologize for the late start. Smartly dressed in Chucks, a "vintage" rock T, and overalls, he stammered through a paragraph's worth of words to say "Sorry, we know it's late. We'll get this thing moving when the rest of the filthies hit the seats, enjoy the previews."
He went on a good 3 minutes, looking very uncomfortable. He finshed up and began to walk off-stage, with a slight pause before turning for the steps down. In that split second "This is funny, and I care not what these people think," so I began to stand up and applaud. "M" caught me and we started laughing before I went too far, but the idea was good, even if it didn't come to a full applause break.
The feeling of boredom and ridiculous lag time was in the air, I felt the need to break it up a little bit. I also asked out-loud and to nobody in particular "Hey, can we smoke in here?" and, following yet another announcement by the same employee, I mentioned how this was possibly the worst one-man, two-act play ever produced. Oh well, at least we mixed Ginger Ale and vanilla vodka right under their noses/seats.

This is Me for now, but that may change.
Geoffers