4 out of 7 scientists prefer Chewbacca's crossbow
meanwhile, behind the facade of this innocent looking doghouse...
copyright 2002-2011 ultrablognetic |
Wednesday, May 07, 2003
The bigwigs are in an apparently super secret conference call so I guess that’s my cue to chime in with the blah-blah.
Been living at this place the last few days as our home computer decided to take a phat dump right at the tail end of Mrs. P’s semester at school, so we’ve been coming into my office for a couple hours a night so she can work on her essays. Let’s see, 10 am, another hour and a half or so, and I’ll be outta here for lunch. Then maybe I can join the junior bear association. Whut the crap is the junior bear association? Not to get on my own ass, but what the hell is that supposed to mean? Quick poll: would you guys rather me continue to blab off the top of my head without editing junk like that out, or would you prefer I write little edited essays that actually make some kind of a point? Vote now, not that your vote will matter. I will continue on, as I always have. As I always will. Until the day they drag my corpuscled carcass out the back door and throw me in the dumpster for the rats. There’s a pleasant image, keith, you definitely have a gift. Hmmm dee dumm. Random link? Why not. Read trueboy, you piles. Two literary geniuses and an existential fag-snake all comfortably nestled under one virtual roof. Yeah blatant ass-kissing, whatevs. They ain’t paying me, don’t get any ideas. What the fuck evs. Sterling wrote an insane post the other day which I just read about some greek women yelling at a Spanish guy and a lesbian rubbing encounter on the subway. See but it sounded so much better than I could ever front it. the exact right details, leaving out the riff-raff, but not the essential riff-raff. You see, the greek broads and the Spanish dude had nothing to do with the subway encounter, but it set the mood, her frame of mind, her, schwan?? Oh and yeah true is still in europe I guess. Maybe I’ll be walking the streets of gay pareeee with mrs. P this summer (oh yeah Europe trip is ON mofos) and true’ll walk by fronting an esco hoodie and we’ll never know it, and 20 years later I’ll get an e-mail saying you suck, joe. You really, really suck. And then I will be pleased because hey, feedback is nice, even negative. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Yeah? Fuck, whatever. Please don’t think I’m beating myself up. This amuses me more than you, and more than you know. Believe it. oh you just caught me. I was editing this part in here and someone called up with the biggest pile of shit: “Hi can I speak to the person that would be in charge of making decisions about computer training?” to which I responded: “can I ask what this is about?” to which she answered “computer training.” Oh thanks a fucking lot, Sherlock, damn, now I’m enlightened. I knew I would have to administer the Pat treatment. “so you are a computer training company, is that it?” duh, of course they are. “yes” ok thank you, you dumb bizzle. “Well, Pat would be the person to talk to about that.” Then this freak of nature had the temerity to ask me “when would Pat be available” to which she got the brilliant answer, “um, not tomorrow, but maybe on Thursday,” to which the smart ass ho had the unmitigated nerve to tell me, ME, “tomorrow is Thursday.” Oh you goddamm fukn superiority complex scrubbed out methadone hick, you didn’t just say that, so I had to lay on her this gem: “ha ha, yeah, ok, then on Friday.” It was at this point that this fascinating conversation was on the verge of being cut short as my boss was waiting for a conference call and wanted this beyatch off the line. Then she’s like “what’s pat’s last name?” here was my moment of triumph, wherein I told her: “McGroin” and I got a response that I had never received in this lifelong cat & mouse game: “can you spell that?” bitch? Are you joking? At this point, the block was hot, so I was like “you know, I have a call coming in, gotta go” to which she said, “oh, ok, well then I’ll” and then there was a click from me hanging up on her ass. Maybe somewhere in Nantucket or wherever the fuck she’s calling from she finally pieced together the cruel twist of fate that brought her phone to my doorstep of doom to be humiliated at the hands of Pat McGroin. Or maybe she’s planning out her sales strategy to Pat McGroin. Maybe she’s rehearsing it in front of the mirror: “Mr. McGroin, my name is dumb-ass-ho from computer training central, and I’ve got a..” to which Pat will respond “um excuse me MISSY!!! But I am a woman!! Jesus, I’ve never been so insulted.” And miss bambutcha will get hung up on again. And then I will be the winner. Ok that was a little longer of a sidetrack than I anticipated. I kind of got into it. Ok now I’ve gotta go roast some chicken. Glendale style. Maybe I'll wash it down with a bellini, shit it's crazy wednesday, right? |