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A Cheeto Named LarryDo not meddle in the affairs of dragons, for you are crunchy and good with ketchup. December, 2008 Anti-Person PersonI have come to accept the fact that I am an anti-person person. I was born this way, like I hear gay people are.
My parents claim that my hatred for mankind began way back in babyhood, when people would try to touch me or pinch my cheeks. They say I would put out a scream and punch that rivaled Bruce Lee. I can vaguely remember hating people as a child, although not quite to the scale I do now.
I estimate that, of all the humans I've been in contact with to date, I only like about 3%. This is a terrible, terrible statistic seeing that alot of my job is dealing with other humans.
Someone asked me the other day if I liked this girl I work with. My instinct was to immediately say no, but I refrained. I got to thinking that she, along with the other 97% of people I have known are probably decent, law-abiding, perfectly acceptable human beings. People most likely love them, and even like them for that matter. They probably have friends and when they walk in a room people say, "Oh yay, so and so is here!". People like them.
I just don't.
That's when it hit me that the personality flaw lies within myself, not those other annoying mother fuckers.
This was a startling discovery! It's not everyone else who sucks! It's me! This really made me feel good, and gave me hope for the future. Before everything seemed so hopeless. I thought every earthling pretty much sucked. Now I realize that it's probably the 3%, myself included, that suck instead of the 97%. This number is much more manageable in terms of the world being worth living in. This is exciting news!
I know you probably thought you would go all day long with no good news. It turns out I'm good for something after all. November, 2008 Weekly HorrorscopeAries (March 21-April 20)
If you leave the house this week you will die. Seriously. Ok. You can't believe what horoscopes tell you, but you will die if you leave the house. Not really. REALLY.
Taurus (April 21-May 21)
Thanksgiving is quickly approaching, but your whole family hates you. Even the people at Luby's don't want you over. On a brighter note, at least you aren't an Aries.
Gemini (May 22-June 21)
God hates Geminis. That's why your life sucks. Satan is a Gemini. Maybe you and Satan, aka your other personality, can get a bite to eat and talk about how much you suck.
Cancer (June 22-July 22)
If the zodiac had a runt it would be you. And not the kind where everybody says, oh wow he's so great can you believe he was the runt of the litter? No. More like, Jimmy, leave Cancer alone, he's not right, he's the runt of the litter you know.
Leo (July 23-August 21)
You are just a run of the mill, standard bad person. Nothing good will happen to you this week or ever again. You should go out with Aries this week.
Virgo (August 22-September 23)
You're going straight to hell. Maybe not this week, but you're going.
Libra (September 24-October 23)
Your partner is cheating on you mainly because they never really loved you. What else....oh yeah. You were the reason your parents got divorced.
Scorpio (October 24-November 22)
Some people were born to be world leaders, others were born to be doctors and missionaries. No less important is the stalker, for which you were born to be. This week, own it.
Sagittarius (November 23-December 22)
Not just anyone can be as worthless as you. It takes real skill and inate depravity to reach the bottom of the barrel as you have. This week, take the family for an informative tour of your meth lab.
Capricorn (December 23-January 20)
You know what they say. Capricorns are the most unwanted sign of the zodiac. Who is they, you ask? Your mom.
Aquarius (January 21-February 19)
God is recalling all Aquarius'. It seems He forgot to put a soul in you guys. Hurry and do wrong stuff this week so it can't count against you.
Pisces (February 20-March 20)
Yes Pat, I'd like to buy a vowel please. F_CK_N P_SSY.
Thanks.I realized something interesting today at work.
Let me first start by saying that I work with almost 60 men and only 5 women. I don't have to tell you that the language can get pretty rough with a bunch of men around. It doesn't bother me, and good thing, because they don't censor themselves. My first two weeks on the job I got mooned and got the goat. For those of you who don't know what the goat is, you're a better person for it.
Anyway, this morning alone I heard:
"Suck it"
"Eat my balls"
"Mmm I like fish tacos - extra tartar sauce please"
"Blow me f*ck face"
Quality communication.
Then in came the snack guy. He handed me an invoice to sign and said these magical words along with an uncomfortable wink and nod: "I don't mean to sound disrespectful, but you sure are pretty."
Disrespectful? Hell, I've seen more sets of balls in this place than I can even begin to block out. And then I wondered, have I gotten so immune to depravity that a little mild sexual harrassment seems like chivalry?
Yes.
"Thanks" I told him. And I meant it. November, 2008 Name this mental disorderI work with a creature I believe to be a psychopath.
However.
Being the logical, fairminded individual that I am, I am inclined to collect opinions from others in order to ensure my diagnosis is correct. That being said, please correct me if necessary, based on the following field data collected observing this creature:
EXHIBIT A: THE LAUGH
It is blonde and I do my best not to provoke it. By provoke, I mean say anything that the creature could construe as remotely funny.
It laughs at inappropriate times. By laugh, I mean it makes a noise something like a cross between the scream of a wild panther cat and the blow of an air horn.
For example:
It says: "Here is your folder" and "laughs". This "laugh" can and will melt your face off. And even though there is nothing funny about "here is your folder", it laughs wildly as if nothing has ever been funnier in the history of the world. I have dissected the phrase "here is your folder" and examined it from every angle. It was a standard manila folder with no special hilarious features - Benny Hill had not taken up residence in the folder. It merely contained timesheets. Nothing funny there.
Upon further observation, I find that the creature exhibits this same behavior after saying things such as, "I'll see you tomorrow" , "Going out to lunch?" , or any other standard small talk phrase that you can imagine. But it gets much worse.
EXHIBIT B: THE BIG EYE / LAUGH COMBO
Its eyes grow simultaneously with the volume of the "laughter". Hence, the louder the laugh gets, the bigger the eyes get. This is very scary indeed, for it is not known what amount of pressure its eyeballs can withstand before shooting right out of its head and taking someone else's eye out. It is recommended that one use proper PPE when in this situation. But it gets worse.
EXHIBIT C: THE BIG EYE / LAUGH / INVADE PERSONAL BUBBLE SUPER COMBO
Only seasoned veterans accustomed to its behavior can survive this super combo. This is the equivalent of pouring muratic acid on a snail. It is nothing to f*ck with, people. I have seen grown men sizzle into small puddles of crispy burnt human residue, unable to withstand the super combo.
What happens is the louder it laughs, and the bigger its eyes get, the closer its face gets to yours. A tree in the anus could not be more uncomfortable. In fact, it may indeed be a welcome alternative. Furthermore, it does not blink. Its unblinking big eyes stare four inches from your face whilst the "laugh" blows your face and hair back, much like that of skydiving.
I have survived much the same way as Arnold Schwarzenegger did in Predator. Upon hearing its little size 6's thumping there way over to my desk, I slather myself in mud and remain very very still. It looks closely, its tentacles searching restlessly for signs of life - it knows it is being deceived in some way, but its alien-like senses are no match for my cunning.
____________________________________________________
I have been fortunate enough to survive living amongst the creature and document its behavior, although I must say I have wept quietly at night, wondering why God could not have sent the demon from "The Grudge" to live in my bathtub instead. But we cannot dictate the hand of God. I have accepted the fact that it is my duty to educate others in the hopes that they too may live to tell of their harrowing experiences.
There are many more than three exhibits. I thought I would begin slowly, as to not overwhelm right away. It is alot to take. What I need are others like me, who have come face to face with a creature such as this and lived to tell about it. My question is, IS THERE A NAME FOR THIS? I look forward to examining your casework.
Thank you all, and be safe out there.
January, 2007 The perfect jobJust a little while ago, while searching through the paper for a decent part time job, I wondered to myself what the perfect job for me would be. *Update* I quit my job. So anyhow, not that I would be so lucky to get the perfect job for me, but if I did, what would it be?
A thought immediately came to my head, almost with no hesitation. I looked to my boyfriend, who was actually doing the job searching for me, and declared "Why can't I just get paid to pet kitties all day? 20 dollars an hour to pet kitties all day."
He smiled and replied, "Why would you do that when there's a job listed right here cutting the heads off live turkeys". He then informed me that live turkey killers were required to take counseling every three months, which I did not know. Very interesting I thought, being that all they do is kill day in and day out. I guess that would take its toll on a person. Can you imagine that particular counseling session? Hilarious. Some poor bastard is thinking, "Geez, and I thought this was the perfect job for me. How could I have ever gotten sick of this? Where did it all go wrong?!"
Ok wow I'm off the subject.
Anyway, I did bask in the kitty petting thought for a moment just to amuse myself. But then another thought occurred to me. Wouldn't even the perfect job get ho-hum after awhile? I imagine in the business of petting kitties there are quite alot of politics involved. Just imagine.....
Diary
Week 1
Wow! This is the best job ever! I am the luckiest girl alive! I can't believe they pay me 20 dollars an hour to pet these precious angels! They are so adorable. So beautiful. I could never ask for more. I will retire from here. I'm setting my 401k up today! I'm so excited. All the cats love me, and I love them. My life is so perfect.
Week 2
What a great job. I really can't believe my luck. I'm getting to know all the cats better, what they do and don't like, whose stomach you can touch and who will rip your arm off. You know, it's a learning experience for sure. But lucky me, this is great! My paycheck was amazing. They don't provide Neosporan here, but God knows I get paid enough, I'll just drop by Walmart on my way home.
Week 3
I'm so happy. Really I am. Yep. Love this place. Having some issues with this cat named Oscar, but otherwise things are going fairly well. Apparently I'm showing favoritism, or so they alleged in my review. I don't see it, but whatever. I like them all the same, and I'm sure I show no preference whatsoever. But I will just have to be more careful of it is all. Just a bad week, things will be better I'm sure. How can they not be? I have the perfect job.
Week 4
Going great still. Can an online diary get me in trouble at work? Just asking, because I'm needing to vent. That little bastard Oscar set me up. He's turned half the cats against me, and the other ones are wondering if they can trust me. I can feel it. Oscar is saying that I'm spreading ringworm, so nobody wants to come near me. I'm sure I got it from him the first week anyway. He's a nasty little man, I know that's where it came from. My insurance hasn't kicked in, so I spent $200 at the doctor trying to get this stuff cleared up. Oh, and they're docking my pay to get all the cats treated. I think it's bullshit, but this is still one of the best jobs I've ever had. Maybe if I just reach out to Oscar we can clear this whole mess up.
Week 5
Turns out Oscar's a real piece of shit. I'll tell you that much. I need a f*cking raise for all this shit I'm putting up with. I'm down to 3 cats who like me, probably only because none of the other cats like them. But it's a blessing to know who my true friends are. I'm sure Tripod, the three legged one, is my BFF to the end. We're tight. I know I shouldn't complain. No job is perfect. I'll hang in there and everything will be better! I just know it!
Week 6
F*ck this place!!! F*ck Oscar, and all the rest of the little bastards! I did not, I REPEAT DID NOT, sh*t in the litter box as accused. I know it was a big turd, but Oscars a fat ass! That thing could have come out of him. And just why would I do that anyway? Management doesn't believe me. They've installed cameras, and are saying they are monitoring alleged 'abuses'. What?! So I'm on a 90 day probation period now. They say there must be something truthful in it all with it being 30 against one. I hate them all. I would quit, but my lawyer says that would be almost like an admission of guilt. And no thanks to Tripod either. The little Benedict Arnold just licked his ass when they asked if anyone would speak on my behalf. God give me strength.
Six weeks later.....
I know it's been awhile since my last entry. I just came out of the coma, and I'm encouraged by the fact that I still have my writing arm. I don't remember much of the attack, but I hear the video has hit the internet. Friends and family insist I don't want to see it.
Apparently it all started when I slid on some cat food, and once I was down they made their move. I'm told I'll need skin graphs for the flesh on my thigh that was eaten away, but it will probably never look normal. I'm not much for shorts anyhow.
I guess I should be happy justice has finally been served. All the accused were sent to the animal shelter to be euthanized. Apparently once they get the taste of human flesh they can never be rehabilitated. They've informed me that I can sit in for Oscar's execution if I'm well enough. Do they sell popcorn at those events?
Being the optimist I am, the lawsuit will provide for me the rest of my life. And isn't the perfect job really being able to stay home? I'm so excited. I just know everything will be perfect! I get to watch soaps all day, and just do any darn thing I want. Now that, my friends is the perfect job. You'll see.
P.S. Oh, and I'm getting a dog!!! Turns out the government provides dogs for those with disabilities such as mine. He is going to pull me all over town on that skateboard the hospital issued me. We're going to be best friends!
I'm really sleepy right now. I know tomorrow when I read this I'm going to think I'm an idiot. Goodnite all.
January, 2007 Dr. Laura. What a COW.The other day I'm driving down the road and came across Dr. Laura's show on the radio. For those of you who don't know who she is, she's a self rightious psycho freak bitch with no detectable traces of human decency whatsoever.
I hate stumbling onto her program. I want to reach through the radio and bitch slap that woman. She is the most awful cruel piece of garbage since Hitler. So anyway, I'm listening to the program, and this woman calls. She says, "Yes, when I was a child I was molested and I'm having a hard time getting over it." Personally I think that's a valid thing to call about. I guess Dr. Satan didn't, because she immediately snapped, "Oh...BOOHOO! I'm gonna blame everything in my life on the fact that I was molested as a child! Give me a break. I can't help you. You don't wanna be helped."
Uh. What? YOU FREAK SLUT!!!
If you have not had the opportunity to listen to her program, here's a mock program I've created so that, number one, you get the picture, and number 2, you don't have to listen to the slut banshees voice. But this is enough information to know when you've come across Lucifer's program so you may immediately turn the station. As always, you're welcome. Doing this public service is a thankless job, but I will continue to do my duty in saving the world.
Dr. Laura: Next caller, what can I do for you?
Caller: Well, I'm having this problem with my husband...
Dr. Laura: Hold on now caller. Let's address the most obvious issue. It's 2 in afternoon. What are you doing home?
Caller: Well, my husband ran over me and my leg is broken and...
Dr. Laura: So let me get this straight. You don't work. You lay around the house and expect the head of your household to afford you respect?
Caller: Um....no...I....
Dr. Laura: You're obviously a hypocondriac. I once broke a leg and ran a marathon the next day, and won might I add. You obviously don't have remorse in your heart for the stress you've voluntarily placed on your husband, so how am I supposed to help you ma'am?
Caller: Well I...
Dr. Laura: And tell me caller. Does your husband also have the misfortune of having children with you?
Caller: We had two...he killed them...
Dr. Laura: How long do you plan on feeling sorry for yourself? I can't do a thing for you as long as you continue to wallow in self pity.
Caller: I'm not...
Dr. Laura: Ah...and denial at that. Look caller, when you grow up, feel free to call back and give us an update on your life. Until then, I can't help you. There's nothing I can do for you as long as you continue on this self destructive path of blaming others and taking no responsibility for the mess you're in.
Caller: Ppp...please....he's choking me...9...1...1....
Dr. Laura: Perhaps he's trying to assist you in vomitting, because my guess is you're probably fat and don't care about taking care of yourself and looking fresh and presentable for your husband anymore. Try to look at things from his standpoint for a change. I can see his frustration. You're obviously very selfish an self centered, and talking to you in a logical manner doesn't seem to get through either.
Caller: I...*gurgle*....*thump*...
Dr. Laura: Wow! Now see listeners, this is what I'm talking about. The woman has the audacity to hang up on me because she can't handle the truth. I'll just never understand these callers. Good luck to that husband of hers and the burden he has to bear. Next caller.
Well there you have it. A realistic reenactment of a Satanic whore they call a therapist. Callers beware.
December, 2006 Lights OutWell I guess by now you've all heard the news of Saddam's recent expiration. I came in at 4:30 this morning to the news from a very tickled and right ring father. I knew it was coming, but still I found myself in complete shock. I found myself with mixed feelings about the whole execution.
My first issue is this: Why do they have to kill all the interesting people? Now what are we gonna talk about? All this does is put the focus back on Osama and how we haven't found him yet. Not nearly as interesting to me as having an already found evil dictator and holding him captive. What a great story that is. Why ruin a good thing is what I say.
My other issue is of more practical matters. Personally, I think his death only martyrs him and creates new violence. With the financial strain the war has created in not only this country but several others, why not use Saddam as a money making enterprise instead? All along I've thought we should have put him in a cage and charged admission to see him. You could charge 1000 dollars a head, which people would certainly pay, and help rebuild with the proceeds. Maybe only a dent in the overall debt, but a dent no less.
I must say, he was dressed quite nice for his hanging. Again, am I wrong, but what a waste of a good suit. So many things here just aren't right. I mean, he wears this expensive nice suit, but doesn't bother to trim his beard or mustach. I personally don't understand the reasoning, but whatever.
And did you hear his last words? "God is great and Palestine is Arab."
Huh?
I'd be saying, "Criss Angel, if you're listening, from one evil bastard to another, I'll give you all my daughters if you just wiggle your nose!"
Anyway, all jokes aside, Saddam is dead. Ok so anyway, I'm a little hungry. Catch ya later. December, 2006 Never Kill Yourself on an Empty Stomach.With the holiday season at hand and families joining together to celebrate all the love they have for one another, I think suicide is an important issue to discuss today. Holidays tend to bring out the worst in people. It's a proven fact that suicides and violent crimes increase during this time of year. A damn shame really, because it ruins Christmas for everybody else. Who wants to be reminded of the dead guy every time they see a pine tree?
I got to thinking, when I am hungry I tend to get kinda mean. Ok, I'll be honest - I'm a big bitch when I'm hungry. Angry thoughts go through my head, but once I've eaten, the beast in me subsides and I'm back to being a precious angel all over again. So I'm sitting thinking, you know - everything looks better after a double bacon cheeseburger. Life before the cheeseburger may have sucked, but in my personal experience, a cheeseburger has never made anything worse.
I wonder if before these people chose to blow their head off, if they might consider a bite to eat first. After all, what can it hurt? If after a big slice of pepporoni pizza you still want to kill yourself, then by all means carry on. I just think all bases should be covered before such a decision is made.
Another important point to cover is this: If you are the guy who just ordered the pizza, ate, and still killed yourself, have the decency to put the remaining pizza in the refrigerator for grieving family members, you selfish bastard.
I think all the times I've acted irrationally, hunger was to blame. Because Lord knows I am not capable of such behavior without a reason. I think if potential suicided victims ( why do they call them suicide victims? ) would just eat first, we'd see alot fewer dead people. And most the time it's a stupid reason anyway. Like Melissa ran off with some other guy or something stupid like that. There are 900 chicks better than Melissa buddy. But you can't meet them if you're dead, now can you?
The moral of this story is, please never kill yourself on an empty stomach. If you don't see anything in the pantry that you want, or if you don't feel like cooking, reach out to someone and say "Hey, I'm thinking about killing myself in a minute. A cheeseburger might change my mind. Can you spare a buck?" I promise you, no one can say no to that, and if they do, rest assured you will see them in hell someday.
Have a good day and God bless! December, 2006 It's Aliiive...Well let's see...where to begin. Well as you guys know I've been in school, which keeps me really busy and unfortunately, away from the computer. I really expected to have alot of material to write about from school, but turns out not so much. But I would appreciate a standing ovation for my A in math. Yes yes, thank you thank you. I will be signing autographs at the door.
I did go on a date awhile back. There was no second date. The record screeched and halted when he stated..."It's a hard lesson, but I know that no means no. Period. That's what I learned in that class they made me take." Hm. How exactly does one go about continuing to behave normally after that? All I could come up with was, "I sincerely hope you made an A".
I had a very terrifying dream the other night. I was sitting on the toilet, and the stalls were divided by curtains. Suddenly, this old lady on the pot next to me flings my curtain open and stares at me. I scream, jump up and ask her, "What the hell is wrong with you lady?!" She looks me dead in the eye and says "Menopause I guess".
Holy shit...was this dream a sign? Afterall, I have been uncharacteristically hot lately. I woke up right as she said those words and immediately looked in the mirror. I was happy to see I was still 33. Perhaps a premenopausal 33, but 33 no less. I just hate dreams like that. I always have weird ass things like that, as I'm sure you all do. For once, I'd just like to have a nice sex dream. Is that so much to ask? I never get those! Watch, I'll have one tonight. It'll be me and the old lady.
Which reminds me, an old lady hit on me at work the other night. She was a truck driver. She was a hefty little mama too. She told me in her gruffest voice, "Giiirrlllll, where you been all my life! HEH HEH HEHHHHEEE!" It was truly mortifying. What was worse though, is that all the regulars were there at that time, so I am yet to live it down.
Working at the bar is fun. Actually, entirely more fun than hanging out there. Plus, I can drink for next to nothing and get paid. What a deal. But you sure do run across some interesting people, and by interesting I mean fucking weird. But I'll save that for my next blog or two so I don't waste all my energy on this one and not blog for another month!
Ok then, see you tomorrow! |
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