I’m always the last to know …

 

… about cool new fads, like cat bearding.  I’m about as in the know as a cat turd hiding under my bed.  So nevermind what I originally had planned for today’s post, this Gawker story is far better.

 

Groupisson

I’ve gotten some good deals on Groupon and helped screw over jump start numerous businesses around the area by investing in these deals.  Once Groupon started offering goods, I developed a healthy collection of junk that I didn’t need and/or know I wanted, including this:

Although this is clearly a must-have in any woman’s purse (presumably stored within a leak-proof container), I have so many questions, putting aside the obvious.

• Do these retail for $34.62 each or is it always buy one get one pee free?

• If they are reusable (gross), why the need for two?

• Where the hell are these 990 plus women planning on pissing in these?

• Who is responsible for this very impressive and shiny backdrop and mirrored display? Watch out Glamour Shots, this picture makes me want to play some R. Kelly and go to town on this.

 

Unfortunately, the detailed description of the Lady Elegance P EZ only heightened my intrigue and, I admit, raised some concerns.

• First of all, I remember learning some time ago that the practical difference between men and women is that the former likes sports and the latter likes to spend beyond their means. Confusion ensues!

• Assuming a woman can develop the comfort level required for a first attempt at standing and peeing (on purpose), where does this subsequent sanitization come from? Nevermind, this obviously occurs at the unsanitary facilities of a festival, sporting event, or campground. Reason 7,419 why I don’t camp, attend sporting events, or go to festivals sober.

• Groupon has always attempted to be witty but I find nothing funny about suggesting a small port-a-potty be placed atop my head, or that this urine-encrusted contraption can double as a lacrosse basket. I would have to think that the men and lesbians who play this game would also be offended by this ludicrous suggestion.

To be clear, I did not end up ordering this although I definitely should have, and this regret has manifested itself subconsciously in the dream I had the other night in which I peed standing up into an upright piano at my boss’s house. I was embarrassed–obviously–but wouldn’t have been as much so if I’d had this device to prevent piss from coating my light blue chambray pants.

Just Another Magic Monday

I don’t know why I’m surprised when Mondays turn into shit show central around here, it’s exactly the same drill every week.

By the time I get in, Harriet Hates Her Job has successfully brewed the worst tasting coffee in the history of bad office coffee.  She will naturally have forgotten to wash the filter prior to doing so for the eighth week in a row now–a practice to which this slop owes its rancid, trash-can aftertaste.  I will fill my cup one-fourth of the way full and pour hot water into the rest, hoping to dilute what is surely the taste of caffeinated RAID.  This, of course, won’t have any effect, so the entire thing will sit on my desk until at least the next day.

Like most of my coworkers, I spend the morning catching up on the weekend’s many emails.  I also spend this time being thoroughly annoyed by the fact that Steven Suck Up and Kristen Kiss Ass were emailing the boss all weekend.  I will dedicate a good 30 minutes to discounting whatever either of them said in their weekend correspondences, but Cathy Crisis will interrupt me with an array of absolutely meaningless tasks that absolutely must be completed this very second.  I will nod frantically and immediately place the files into a follow-up folder that doubles as my recycling bin.  

Just when I’m ready to dive into what I’m supposed to be doing, I realize that Carlos Can’t Clean for Shit has rearranged the contents of my desk and also has broken the riser foot on my keyboard, doing who the hell knows what.  This will take me 25 minutes to put back on because I am an idiot and do not get paid to know how to do these things.  I will finally find my To Do list behind my desk, along with my stress ball, which I will squeeze for five minutes to calm my anger towards Carlos and keep myself from calling ICE.  After this, I will feel like a huge racist and will experience overwhelming thoughts of regret and shame, because I don’t know if his name is Carlos.  I have never actually seen who cleans my cubicle in the evenings.  The self-disgust will be so overwhelming that I will have to leave the office and give money to the beggar on the street, to validate my worth as a human being.  Of course, this will happen on the way from picking up lunch, and the amount of change I have depends on the meal I have just purchased.

The afternoon kicks off with a weekly mandatory-attendance status meeting, at which David the Director gets to hear all about how poorly we are running his business.  Although everyone will be able to see through it, I will smile, nod, and be generally enthused about the great work my department is doing, an exercise that will be followed by others and will include a variation of the following:

• Don’t Ask Me Dan will request additional administrative support to push through the highly relevant and timely project that everyone, including David the Director, had forgotten about and which had been removed from the status meeting agenda entirely.  He will also be chewing gum throughout the course of this discussion and will smack his lips in disdain to any and all who suggest more appropriate uses of the single administrative staffer this business has managed to retain over the last four months.

• Kristen Kiss Ass will chime in at every available opportunity throughout the meeting but her time to shine will really come when it’s time to report out on productivity for the quarter.  Here, she will point to her numbers and revenue generated–by point, I mean PowerPoint–and, of course, will reference some of the content contained in her weekend emails to David the Director.  At this point, I am not the only one annoyed and many of us will throw imaginary Kikis in our heads when Fuck Off Fred interrupts to explain why Kristen wasn’t as productive as she initially calculated.

• Irrelevant Ian will begin and end his substantive report by announcing that the office will have its first silent auction next Friday, all the proceeds of which will go to his son’s Boy Scout Troop.  He will not pick up on the fact that no one in the room is any bit interested and will continue to detail the Troop’s upcoming retreat and unfortunate budget problems.  Randy will not mention the Scout’s policy towards homosexual boys, but you can tell that Fabulous Frank wants to talk about it.

• He won’t, though, because David the Director will interrupt at this point and attempt to encapsulate the discussion so far, which takes all of a minute and includes the following descriptors: “stalled,” disappointing,” “delayed,” “less-than-desirable,” and–the hallmark–”on the back burner” which is where most of Don’t Ask Me Dan’s career lives.

• The meeting will end with a report on administrative items by Tammy Talks to Herself, who will explain in excruciating detail her recent efforts at purchasing coffee straws from Staples–an exercise which somehow resulted in the office receiving a 1,000-count box of wooden stir sticks from Office Depot.  Erin the Environmentalist doesn’t like where this is going but thankfully no one gives a fuck.  This marks the last time Tammy will talk to another human today and the first of Erin’s weekly rants about commingled containers.

Once this hellacious exercise ends, I return to my desk for a quick cry and afternoon pick-me-up which consists of candy and 30 minutes spent looking for a new job online.  Once I have succeeded and failed at those tasks, respectively, I’m back at my To Do list to change all the dates to tomorrow.  Then, I endeavor to see how much money I can waste on Groupon.  A lot is always the answer and the significant deficit in my checking account inspires me to be a productive team member the following day.  This will last for five minutes and my final task, ten minutes later, consists of hitting Ctrl + Shift + N on Google Chrome to watch this video twice through:

where everybody knows your name

It’s getting to be summertime now and the last of our ski resorts is just weeks away from closing. In fact, thanks to WordPress’s customized publishing function, while you’re reading this post I’m hammered. Oh, and also up at the resort maybe doing a bit of riding. We’ll see. Anyway, the start of summer means that the group of super-close tight-knit friends that I ride with during winter will totally disappear from my life until early October. It’s true friendship, I’m telling you.

Usually, I just sit around and sulk or travel so much I don’t have time to sulk, but this summer I’m going a different route and decided to search for a new community of potential friends, be it through sports, recreational activities that don’t involve flying balls, or a group sharing common interests. When I didn’t find anything that interested me and/or was at my level of athleticism (think fourth-grade chess), I gave up and joined Sam’s Club. I like to shop, I like to eat, and I have nothing against Sam, so I figured I’d get in on his club. Plus, he accepted me, which is always questionable.

Very soon after being informed of my acceptance, I decided to make my first trip and check out this new, exclusive club of which I had become a part. It was a club alright! A dirty, overweight, and desperate club that made me want to shower halfway through making the full store rounds. It was an experience that really stimulated my imagination, trying to figure out a) whether all those kids belonged to that one lady, b) where the hell that family of 12 was going to store the 4 carts-full of food they had amassed with their grubby fat paws, and c) where the hell the condoms were located and why they weren’t more prominently displayed. Obviously, I had found my home.

That day, I spent an hour at the “food court” just trying to get a feel for my new friends and things we may have in common. Aside from an apparent love of nachos with fake cheese, it looks like my new friends and I share a few loves, including 2 pounds of peanuts, 4 jumbo bags of pretzels, and a suitcase of Coors Light. If that’s not friendship I don’t know what is, and the way I see it, the hotter it gets out there the grosser it gets here, and I’m all over that shit, especially when I have a blog to run and the 2-pack of industrial-sized Lucky Charms is on sale. Don’t worry, I won’t be the only one all over that shit.

Pie Chart Friday: No Chart edition

For a moment there, I forgot this whole blogging thing actually required me to do something aside from surfing the internet all day at work and having in-depth philosophical conversations with my cat in the evenings, usually while he is licking his ass and/or ripping holes in my couches. So my apologies to anyone out there who has missed my colorful–in many ways–pie charts over the last few weeks. I know, as if.

But truth be told, recently I’ve been busy doing other, perhaps more meaningful things, depending on one’s perspective. (From my perspective, nothing is more meaningful than a good pie chart on a lazy Friday afternoon, but certain people disagree and I’ve been answering to those types of people of late.) Recent developments have included:

-A New Job: That’s right, I have confirmed that there are a few people out there stupid enough to entrust me with responsibility and money, and fortunately for me, I located some of them. On the downside, I regret to report that the battle between getting a job that I find fulfilling and one that fills my bank account has been lost. In fact, there really was no battle, the money rode in on a white horse (also made of money) and ideology and personal fulfillment didn’t stand a chance. Sort of like politics… I will, of course, erect a monument for them in my home, made from solid white gold. I would be lying if I didn’t feel a tad bit disappointed in how quickly and easily I sold out. I know money doesn’t buy happiness but it does buy transportation to and from exotic locations at which one would have a very hard time not being happy. You can also buy cats with money, so I guess money does buy happiness–albeit of the allergy-ridden and vomit-filled sort. Money also buys lots of beer–take that poverty.

-Breast Cancer: I cannot convey how truly unfortunate it has been that in these last few weeks, during which time I should have had all attention on Angelina Jolie’s tits, I have been preoccupied with the tits of another. Fortunately, I now have the time and mindset to direct all attention where it is due, and will be madly searching the internet for images of Mrs. Pitt’s boobs. Plus, there was the blue urine which was an unexpected treat.

Early detection really is the difference between life and death, and that concludes my serious thought for 2013.

-Apartments Wars: In addition to losing my idealistic drive to do good in the world, I also lost my battle to get out of my lease early, which means months of bitching via this blog and many a pie chart to come, representing my plans for tormenting the neighbors and leasing company during my extended period of transition out of this layer of hell. Money has won again, because I would rather burn $4000 and/or buy the Dollar Store down the street before giving these assholes a windfall. In the next few months, I could use all the help I can get here because despite what you may think about me by now, I can only generate so many ridiculous and disturbing ways to be a pain in the ass. My imagination only goes so far, even though “so far” is nowhere within the realm of normal. I’m OK with that, obviously.

-Exercise: I’ve been doing it and can say that it still blows hard. Fortunately, I have a new and very strong motivator, and that is working toward being able to lift my new Brita Water Filter out of the refrigerator. Sometimes hitting rock bottom is all it takes. So watch out, water filter, I’m hoping to be able to use you sometime in the next year.

still here …

… but overwhelmed with being underwhelmed at work.

Look for new posts starting this Friday–right after this bug up my ass gets removed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

thank you, I think …

I started this blog immediately after quitting Facebook, primarily as a means through which to ensure that my emotionally charged neuroses have an outlet that is not my office or my shitty, over-priced, and dog-shit ridden apartment complex.  See, an outburst on par with those I am capable of having could send me to jail in those environments and from what I hear, you don’t make money in jail and you can’t have your cat come with you.  I like money; I love cats.  I need both to keep myself on the fast track to Fancytown, so I turned to the internet, where raving lunatics shine.  And indeed, shit’s getting sparkly over here.

Consider Delicatessen Magazine from my very own hometown, who gave me what I’m reading to be a glowing recommendation:

I’ll forgive them for posting anything with Shaun White’s picture on it, and pass along my sincere thanks for being included in this post.  My ultimate goal is to make people laugh and if I have to out myself as an irresponsible, inappropriate, potentially too heavy a drinker, shit show to Sloppytown, then so be it.

I do come across a bit different in real life.  For example, I’m super hot, career oriented, very successful, fiercely independent, and can at least pass as professional when I need to–so why not blog about that?  Well, it’s fucking boring really, really, really fucking boring. Also, in an interesting twist, I just recently spent some time sober.  It was more than just a few days and–wait for it–I did it on purpose!  The problem is, know what I did during that time?  Nothing.  Nothing at all.  No wait, I did do something, I went to the mall and ended up spending $56 on tea.  Aside from being incredibly stupid and a colossal waste of money, this is one of the most boring stories I have ever had the displeasure to recount.

So, long story short, my local friends at Delicatessen mag–let me know when, instead of restaurants, you want to start trying all of the area’s new breweries.  I can guarantee no matter where we would go, I will have been there but may not remember it so it will kind of be like my first time.  Not that first time …