Today, I discovered a sweet haircut. They key is – you don’t do anything. I mean, just comb it straight out of the shower and let it fall where it may.
It’s like wearing a soft racoon pelt all day log. I love it. It’s also vaguely reminiscent of a Beatles Haircut, with far less talent.
Having a couch is a lot like having a baby; you can lay your briefcase upon
it after a long day of work, sit on it, and snuggle with it while watching a
shitty Discovery Channel program about Fatties and Feeders. You can also
feed the couch baby food and cheerios softened with chef Boyardee reamed from a
plastic cup.
I very much realize that I’m 8-25 Years younger than my coworkers, but its
getting to wear on me exactly how frequently I have to contort my face into a
forced-grimace every time somebody starts talking about how wonderful their 5
year old is and what a happy time they have when baby Lucas rockets a Nerf
football into their groin. Each time little Lucas comes into the office on
account of his newest medical malady, I can’t help but imagine myself
punting the little creature off the 8th floor balcony into a stiff South East
wind and scoring the game winning 3 points – not unlike something out of the
Jack Black/Ferrell exchange in Ron Burgundy.
Again, its not that children themselves bother me – I just can’t tolerate the
constant shifts in focus from Daytime Overdrafts, Coupon Payments, and bitching
at Traders to stories about crying, anecdotes related to proper bedtime feeding,
and why toddlers should have Hennessy rubbed into their gums to help with
teething. I came into this building to work today, and not to talk
toddlers with the new daddies and mommies. If I wanted to do that, I would
have gone to Toys ‘r (backwards) Us and started running pass plays with the kids
in the ACTION FIGURES aisle so that the irate parents would come and tell me not
to play with their children. I was open to the option of pursuing
professional pedophilia a couple years a go – I chose a job pushing buttons on a
calculator.
All I remember about this week is my intense longing to do
nothing. Much like I used to not do.
I lament the hours between 10 AM and 4 PM.
—
and unrelated to the cap….
Beth: [Andy is staring at her] Can I help you?
Andy Stitzer: Do I need help?
Beth: Ummm… is there something you are looking for?
Andy Stitzer: Is there something I should be looking for?
Beth: We have an extensive do-it-yourself section.
Andy Stitzer: Do you like to… do it yourself?
How much do Owners Club, Box Tickets go for at Fedex Field for the San
Diego game? 100 bucks, 500 bucks? More than I would pay, anyway.
I wish we were playing the Browns.
Oh god, I am going to cry.
Thanksgiving is coming up, which means its finally time to watch the Cowboys
beat the crap out of somebody (they’re about 67-2 on thanksgiving day) and the
magnificent meat-gorging and potato-spooning meal of awesomeness that we all
enjoy on the 4th Thursday in November. For most people, this means a 2 day
Holiday (One if you’re in banking and finance, and about 3 if you’re a student),
but even greater than that it means that we can give thanks to the Native
Americans who kindly bestowed upon us the secret art of “growing food and not
starving to death.” Unfortunately, we subsequently murdered and exiled
them after that, but we did not murder that god damn delicious turkey recipe
(the one where you insert a chicken carcass into a duck orifice, and the duck
carcass into a turkey orifice – John Madden Style).
In honor of all this, I watched The Last of the Mohicans and the scene
in Predator when Billy dies (he’s Native American, that’s why he can
smell Invisible Aliens). After all this, I plan to make a sacrifice to
Squanto and to burn a copy of The Indian in the Cupboard upon an altar of
European Scalps and Buffalo Hides. I invite you all to do the same (or
come watch me do it – if that’s you’re thing, you sick bastard).
—
This week:
* Sungard took myself and two coworkers out to A very nice (500 Dollar?)
dinner and front row, behind the goal, seats at a Caps Game (125 a
piece?). Wow, I wish had that kind of money to blow.
* I made the best pizza ever
* Mr. Louis and I agreed I’d work the day after Thanksgiving, in exchange for
the day after Christmas (is observed).
* Here’s a picture I found of a typical female (could it be male?) Steelers
fan. I hope a certain Pittsburgher whose name starts with ‘P’ wretches and
projectile vomits after seeing this. No offense.
|
“I LOVE HINES WARD AND BEN ROTHLISBERGER SO MUCH THAT I THE POWER OF COWHER IS INSIDE ME AS WELL!” |
G) Hello, Welcome to (Generic Supermarket). If you have a
(coupon card specific to this Corporation) please scan it now.
G) Congratulations, Your personal identification has been accepted.
You are now eligible to make purchases and file tax returns in (applicable
state.)
M) (Scan Bologna).
G) Bologna accepted.
M) (Scan Crispix Brand Breakfast Cereal)
G) Unrecognized breakfast configuration – sales manager will confirm you are
of legal age to purchase breakfast item.
M) Breakfast Cereal is confirmed.
M) (Scan Carton of eggs)
G) Rescan item, please.
M) Rescan.
G) Item unrecognized. Report to Egg/Dairy Clerk to verify item is “egg/s?”
M) Dairy clerk informs you item is “unknown pathogen/nerve agent”
G) Item is confiscated because it represents a threat to a grocery customer.
…….
M) Scan “Frozen Hash browns a la McCain’s.”
G) Item is age-restricted. Produce ID and Work VISA to status-active Food
Control Agent.
M) Produce documents.
G) Customer has not been recognized as US-13 class agent. Sales to
non-military personnel are restricted. Your name has been sent to the Department
of Defense’s terrorists watch list list.
M) Scan Boboli PIZZA CRUST.
G) You are now #1 on the CIA most wanted list.
M) Scan Hummus
G) DR) Hello, this is Donald Rumsfeld. Why are you purchasing this
item?
M) Nourishment.
G) Navy ISOPS will be at your home in less than 23 minutes, regards.
M) ISOPS?
G) Interrogation Personnel.
M) I still have gumballs and beef left to buy,
G) remain CALM, ARE YOUR FINGERNAILS SENSITIVE?
.
For untold years – well that’s hyperbole really, its more like 8 – I’ve
contemplated a question that has confounded hundreds of my peers. The
question is not one of world peace, or the inner workings of Geo – Political
events, nor is it a strictly scientific pursuit . This question is much larger
and at least 13 times more important. Stephen Hawking was brought to
his knees (metaphorically), Kissinger formed beads of sweat upon his forehead
saltier than a thousand red seas. and L. Ron Hubbard was forced to drink 8
gallons of fermented prune juice merely to cleanse his mental palette of the
conundrum forever.
What IS in the Papa Johns special seasoning?
You know the stuff. It used to come in a a tiny plastic shaker, then
developed into a more convenient wet-nap type envelope enclosure.
Regardless of vessel, the taste was the same.
It is THE essential seasoning for:
– Pizza
– Lasagna
– Cauliflower, Potatoes, and Pasta
– Burgers and Fries
– Rice Dishes
– Tacos and Burritos
– Jello
– Ice Cream
– and Kelloggs Frosted Flakes, but not Fruit Loops.
…..
Sure they list the ingredients, but its the proportions that make the
seasoning. Papa Johns could mix rat droppings, dead goldfish, and “Dem
Bones” of Halloween “throw this cod-tasting granny candy in the Kmart Dumpster”
trash candy fame and make them taste like Caviar Filled Butter Wafers from the
French Laundry. I just don’t understand how its possible. Its 7
ingredients, all of which I have in my kitchen cabinets. However, none of
them seem to taste at all similar to the PJ recipe upon mixture with the others.
I don’t even especially enjoy their pizza – but God be jesused if the
seasoning isn’t the best powder ever invented with the intent of human
consumption. I think the answer is obvious.
Seasoning. It’s what’s for dinner.
————————————–
Chingachgook: The frontier moves with the sun and pushes the
Red Man of these wilderness forests in front of it until one day there will be
nowhere left. Then our race will be no more, or be not us.
Hawkeye: That is my father’s sadness talking.
Chingachgook: No, it is true. The frontier place is for people like my white son
and his woman and their children. And one day there will be no more frontier.
And men like you will go too, like the Mohicans. And new people will come, work,
struggle. Some will make their life. But once, we were here.
—
Madeline Stowe is very attractive.
