|
Do people organize interventions for assholes? Not for assholes who like being assholes. But for assholes who don't realize they are assholes. There are plenty of these out there, I have found. Here's what we need to do. Get a bunch of people together. Wait until the bastard comes into the room. Then, look him in the eye and say, "Phillip, we're here to tell you how much of a dickhead you are." In the longrun, the bastard just might appreciate it.  A few of my coworkers seem to like the idea of repeatedly asking me what I do when I go home from work ... possibility because I never tell them. I'd like for it to remain a bit of a mystery. I could come right out and tell them what I do, explain my random errands and time spent at the gym and in front of this damn computation device, but that wouldn't leave much room for their imagination. If I don't tell them what I'm doing, then, to them, there is still the possibility that I am organizing a cock-fighting ring or selling heroin to the Amish. Since I am doing neither of these cool things, then there's really no point in telling anyone, right? Ya know ... If I were an artist, I bet I could do some really cool things with the dust on my desk. --- Today, I will return a sexy new flat-panel monitor. And two short-sleeved shirts. --- Someone recently said to me, "I thought you didn't wear a seatbelt." And I said, "Yeah, well, I like the feel of it now. It's kind of like how I have a bunch of blankets on my bed. I like the weight on top of me." Later, she said, "I thought you wore briefs." "Well, I do ... when I go to sleep." "Kind of like a seatbelt?" "Hmm, yeah, I guess so." --- I'm feeling a bit braindead lately. Better posts coming soon. I hope. It's true. I've been deleting more posts than ever. It's not that I'm trying to hide anything. I just get frustrated with the words coming out of my fingers. Sometimes, they just aren't right. And the way I look at it is ... it's sort of like a 5-second rule when you drop a piece of food on the floor. If I can delete my post before anyone sees it, the only person who really knows how disgusting it was is me. ----- I was at the grocery store deli the other day. I was second in line to be served, so I didn't take a number. But then! An old woman came out of no where and grabbed a number, forcing me to take my number after hers -- thereby placing me third in line. Thankfully, the woman behind the counter served me next anyway. PHEW! "I thought you got burned," the guy in front of me said. I shook my head. "Almost," I said. "Almost." ----- Hey, remember my "Pistol Pete" email ad I created at work a couple months back? Turns out about 40% of people who open that email click on it. It's one of the most successful email ads we've ever run. Go Pete! It's fun being a nerd, isn't it? I realized the other day that I just couldn't take it any more. My 1994 15-inch Packard Bell monitor has served me well over the years but the damn thing is making me blind. I remember playing Ski Free the day I first bought that computer. So colorful! It was a HUGE upgrade from our Commodore 64. I even read my first email on this monitor - my address: mzwn85a@prodigy.com. Ah, those were the days. But even now, my eyes are straining. And as close as I get to the screen, the text never comes into focus. Tonight, I will replace little PB with a sexy new flat panel. It will be a sad, but much-needed goodbye.  The neurosis that is me... My neighbor asked me to water her plants for her while she was on vacation. Well, now they're dead. Okay ... mostly dead. Actually, I haven't been watering them at all, because it's been raining every day. Today, as I passed one the larger dying plants, I figured the least I could do was pick up the huge shriveled petals that had fallen on to her patio. I was on my way to my car as I picked up the dead flowers, but I was too lazy to walk to the dumpster. I'd just throw them somewhere, I thought. But I couldn't toss them anywhere around the apartment complex. What if she found them! What would she think? So, I crumpled them up into my hand, got in my car and drove a good half-mile or so before I decided I'd just throw them out the window. But I couldn't let anyone see it, because they'd think I was littering my trash in the middle of the street! I had to wait for just the right moment. I checked my mirrors. Accelerated a bit. Rolled down the window ... and then I chucked them! I could see them in my rear-view as I sped away ... like the discarded pieces of a mutilated body. It was after the petals were out of my view that I took a moment to think about everything I just done. And I said to myself ... Seriously, what the fuck is your problem? After doing my best to appear sober on the drive to downtown Lancaster, despite the previous 6 hours of unadulterated binge drinking, and well after I had tried to walk straight, searching for a bar we would never find and a car I had forgotten was mine ... I somehow managed to get us back to E-town alive, unarrested, awake. We finally switched to water around 4 a.m. at my boss's house, and I used his bathroom, unaware that the intoxication had ever truly set in -- after all, if I couldn't remember drinking all night, then it didn't really happen. I washed my hands in the bathroom and staggered backwards slightly, thinking the wall behind me would kindly catch my fall. It all happened within a split second, but I remember the moment very clearly ... the realization that the wall behind me was actually a shower curtain and that, oh shit, this isn't going to be good ... come on, are you serious, there has to be something I can grab. But there wasn't. One second I was washing my hands. The next, I was sitting in my boss's bathtub. When I opened the door, my boss looked at me, somewhat concerned, and said, "What, did you fall in?" "Yes. Yes I did. In the bathtub. But I'm alright," I said as if it was an every day occurrence, and then I said goodbye and drove home. I just want you all to know ... I do not condone any of this behavior. I don't condone it, I'm not proud of it, I don't recommend it ... but I can laugh about it as much as I want. The highlight of my weekend ...             New adventures in sketchy activity! We were just trying to make a buck, honestly people. Our eBay business venture lasted about 12 hours, reached 130 hits, and peaked at an $8 bid, before the listing was taken down on the grounds of it being "Adult Material." But come on ... it was only a pair of underwear! Only, we listed it as "used" ... and "unwashed." Now, hold on. Before you get your panties in a bunch, you should know that this was a joint effort with a girl I work with who was perfectly willing to donate her thong for the sake of cold, hard cash. Who wouldn't? Sure, it was all my sick idea, but the underwear wasn't actually used. We just made that up. Actually, the copy I wrote for the listing was quite brilliant... A strange mix of serious catalogue copy with abrupt descriptive bullets like "Fresh, unwashed scent of a clean young woman" and "soft to the touch of your face." We started the bidding at a penny and offered free shipping. Truthfully, I didn't think anyone would pay more than 75 cents. Then, I started getting emails like this ... hi i am very interested in your thongs you have on ebay but i want wondering alittle bit a bout you. how old are you and will you send me a pic of you so i can see what the girl looks like that i am buying and sniffing her panties thanks Within one hour of the first bid (and with a little bit of our own bidding), the price shot up to $8. Great! we thought. At this rate, we'll hit $100 in a couple days! Then it was over. The listing disappeared and I received a long email of legal rhetoric from eBay, from which I have extracted this: ... Some items, though legal to sell to adults are still restricted. Used underwear - including but not limited to, boxer shorts, panties, briefs, athletic supporters -- is not permitted on eBay. Athletic supporters! Damn ... if only I had thought of it before they did! People-watching. You might say I'm an expert at it. For those that can't relate, well, you might say that's disturbing. But I can't help it. I watch people the way I watch a movie. It's at the point now where, if I'm watching a particularly intriguing interaction--from across a bar, restaurant, grocery store, wherever--and the people I'm with are about to leave, I'll say, "Hold on a sec ... I just want to see how this plays out." For whatever reason, the conversations I'm having usually aren't as interesting as the ones I'm not. And even if they are ... I'm still watching. That said ... He was about 35, give or take a few years. He was wearing a bright red Phillies cap, his cell phone clipped to the outside of his pants. In a small bar with only a handful of people idling against the walls as they watched the band, he stood out a bit, but didn't necessarily look ... "uncool." I shall now call him Marty. Cue the very-attractive 20-something-brunette, who was returning from the bar to stand with her look-alike friend/probable sister. Rochelle. As Rochelle passed Marty, he reached out, stopped her ... mumbled something inaudible to her, then handed her a folded napkin. She looked at her new present, opened it, read whatever message was handwritten inside, and was completely expressionless as she handed it back to him. Not disgusted. Not alarmed or confused. But void of emotion, as if saying, "Here, you keep it. It's yours." Marty shrugged. Rochelle walked away ... a whole 10 feet or so to where her friend/sister was standing. Because of this, she did not verbally tell her friend/sister what had just happened. Instead, she text messaged her. They shared a laugh moments later. It was all over in a matter of 60 seconds, but the mystery remains ... what was on the folded napkin? What could it have possibly said that would make him think it might start-up a conversation with the girl--if that was even his intention? And at what point during the night had he written the message? We'll never know! NEVER! NEVERRRRRRR! Ah-hem. The band was pretty good too, by the way. |
Late night snacks. Bite-sized ramblings. Old-fashioned eats, served fresh daily. Open 24-7.  Other blogs Fireballs and Tsunami JeffreyDavis.net Mismatched Parentheses NimbleSixpence One Tortured Soul Palpably Inadequate Picnic, Lightning Pony Legs, Temporarily Supernouveau Wander Lust In my DVD player Archives June 2003 July 2003 August 2003 September 2003 October 2003 November 2003 December 2003 January 2004 February 2004 March 2004 April 2004 May 2004 June 2004 July 2004 August 2004 September 2004 October 2004 November 2004 December 2004 January 2005 February 2005 March 2005 April 2005 May 2005 June 2005 July 2005 August 2005 September 2005 October 2005 November 2005 December 2005 January 2006 February 2006 March 2006 April 2006 May 2006 June 2006 July 2006 August 2006 September 2006 October 2006 November 2006 December 2006 January 2007 February 2007 March 2007 April 2007 May 2007 June 2007 July 2007 August 2007 September 2007 October 2007 November 2007 January 2008 February 2008 March 2008 April 2008 May 2008 June 2008 Other stuff Homestarrunner One Slime DeepDiscountDVD Olde English Sketch Comedy Live Music Archive Copy Army Copywriting Service Love & Radio This One Time Email me mmjunior / at / hotmail   
|