-Shanghai Steamer
-Taking the Browns to the Super Bowl
-Bombing Tokoyo
-Making an Executive Decision
-Releasing the Kraken
-Giving Birth to an Ethiopian
-Making a Contribution to the Obama Campaign
-Blowing Chunks
-Serving the Corn Cassorole
-Chunky McFlushy
-Votin' Democrat
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Friday, February 19, 2010
A Case of The Fuckits
You losers.
Yall just don't know the art of Fucking Around.
First off, get yourself a good case of The Fuckits.
What are The Fuckits?
The Fuckits are those little voices in your head that put you to sleep in the bathroom stall while you're taking a shit.
They're the little bastards who skip meetings, delete emails, sabotage your co-workers, and park in the restricted area at work and slam the car door into that blue convertible gay-ass Porche that fat-bastard bushy mustached exec tools around in.
They're the fucks who spit on your hand and rub it on your boss's office door.
They're the little nags that say, Hey, dumbfuck, that was a great workout, you owe yourself a black-and-tan!
But it's two in the afternoon. I have a staff meeting at three o'clock.
Fuckit, they say.
Fuckit, you say.
And now, my friend, you have a full-on hard-on raging boner throbbing fuck-em-dry case of The Fuckits.
I suffer from The Fuckits. I suffer pretty bad.
This morning I arrived late.
I then typed an email that took me two hours. Yes, two hours. One email. And it's not even work-related. It's about my son's soccer team. I drew up a pretty little diagram and mailed it to my parents. It had sharks in it, because that's the name of my boy's soccer team. I spent quite a while getting the shark images just right.
I'm a perfectionist, you know. That's a syndrome.
Now I'm posting on Pointless.
I'll eat soon, and then do a couple of hours of work -- yes, I have to do ~some~ work, to maintain appearances. Usually, I work between the hours of eleven and one or two o'clock.
After I scrub out some good-looking work, I'll head to the gym and work out for an hour.
Did I say, An hour?
What I meant was, Two hours. Give or take.
I may even stop on my way and take a nap in the car.
When I get back to work around three o'clock, I'll do a little more work. Usually, this is in the form of sending emails that bounce toward the boss, and touch on high-visibility projects. The other shit I blow off. Someone else will pick up the slack, you know. They always do.
Who are these people? I often ask myself.
Well, they used to be me. I used to be that dumbfuck who picked up the slack. Dumbfucks like you.
After I send some strategic emails, I'll work on my website. I'll tend to my after-school job, the one I actually enjoy doing. I'll write 2,500 words with my headset on, listening to Korn and Seether and Everclear.
Then I'll leave early, explaining I have basketball practice.
And I do have basketball practice for my son.
But it just got cancelled, one voice says. The basketball coach is sick.
Fuckit, the other voice says. You owe yourself a black-n-tan.
- Saul
Yall just don't know the art of Fucking Around.
First off, get yourself a good case of The Fuckits.
What are The Fuckits?
The Fuckits are those little voices in your head that put you to sleep in the bathroom stall while you're taking a shit.
They're the little bastards who skip meetings, delete emails, sabotage your co-workers, and park in the restricted area at work and slam the car door into that blue convertible gay-ass Porche that fat-bastard bushy mustached exec tools around in.
They're the fucks who spit on your hand and rub it on your boss's office door.
They're the little nags that say, Hey, dumbfuck, that was a great workout, you owe yourself a black-and-tan!
But it's two in the afternoon. I have a staff meeting at three o'clock.
Fuckit, they say.
Fuckit, you say.
And now, my friend, you have a full-on hard-on raging boner throbbing fuck-em-dry case of The Fuckits.
I suffer from The Fuckits. I suffer pretty bad.
This morning I arrived late.
I then typed an email that took me two hours. Yes, two hours. One email. And it's not even work-related. It's about my son's soccer team. I drew up a pretty little diagram and mailed it to my parents. It had sharks in it, because that's the name of my boy's soccer team. I spent quite a while getting the shark images just right.
I'm a perfectionist, you know. That's a syndrome.
Now I'm posting on Pointless.
I'll eat soon, and then do a couple of hours of work -- yes, I have to do ~some~ work, to maintain appearances. Usually, I work between the hours of eleven and one or two o'clock.
After I scrub out some good-looking work, I'll head to the gym and work out for an hour.
Did I say, An hour?
What I meant was, Two hours. Give or take.
I may even stop on my way and take a nap in the car.
When I get back to work around three o'clock, I'll do a little more work. Usually, this is in the form of sending emails that bounce toward the boss, and touch on high-visibility projects. The other shit I blow off. Someone else will pick up the slack, you know. They always do.
Who are these people? I often ask myself.
Well, they used to be me. I used to be that dumbfuck who picked up the slack. Dumbfucks like you.
After I send some strategic emails, I'll work on my website. I'll tend to my after-school job, the one I actually enjoy doing. I'll write 2,500 words with my headset on, listening to Korn and Seether and Everclear.
Then I'll leave early, explaining I have basketball practice.
And I do have basketball practice for my son.
But it just got cancelled, one voice says. The basketball coach is sick.
Fuckit, the other voice says. You owe yourself a black-n-tan.
- Saul
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Watching out for the Self
What happens when your success depends on the end result? When the end result is bastardized and so unbalanced that even a trained monkey could have set the ball rolling. But, in the end how will we look if our mission is a failure????? And how will we sleep at night if our mission was a failure and we knew we could have saved it...is it payback, revenge, spite....? But when we save all those stupid fucking coat-tailing wannabes and I wish that they all get cancer and die, it is still necessary for the self. BUT, without the stupid fucks how do we move up? We succeed or fail as a whole. So, how do you progress the self among selfish peers and keep your sanity? You always finish the job, doing an above average performance...........when you are the last motherfucker left that finishes, and turns in your shit then you know...deep down that you are the best. Even if people still continue to get accolades for your hard work. We finish long and strong, they finish early and wanting. Such the cynic...yep, that's me.
-Army of One
Punish the performer
Today was one of those days. One of those days where I wanted to reach through the phone and slap the shit out of an incompetent field grade Army officer and let him have it.
I mean seriously. Everybody in the command sees it and this asshole gets to get a second command. That company is sooooooo fucked.
In the meantime, I'll continue to be punished by his incompetence. Because everybody knows that MC makes shit happen. Oh, for fuck sake! I can't wait for PA school. Academia for two years. After that, it's the old barrell rod for the kids with drippy dick and tissues for the sniffles. No more wiping other field grade's asses or hand holding senior NCOs so they can do their fucking jobs.
Other than the usual take a shit in a ziplock bag and squeeze it through his car window, does anyone have any good suggestions?? I'm game.
I mean seriously. Everybody in the command sees it and this asshole gets to get a second command. That company is sooooooo fucked.
In the meantime, I'll continue to be punished by his incompetence. Because everybody knows that MC makes shit happen. Oh, for fuck sake! I can't wait for PA school. Academia for two years. After that, it's the old barrell rod for the kids with drippy dick and tissues for the sniffles. No more wiping other field grade's asses or hand holding senior NCOs so they can do their fucking jobs.
Other than the usual take a shit in a ziplock bag and squeeze it through his car window, does anyone have any good suggestions?? I'm game.
Monday, February 15, 2010
Lemme sniff your crotch
If you could see black with shades of gray, would you say you can see? Or would you call yourself blind?
If you could hear a single note at a single tone, would you say you could hear? Or would you call yourself deaf?
That's how we smell, compared to a dog, that is.
See, a dog's sense of smell is 10,000 times more acute than a human's. For instance, if this were sight, then you'd be able to see one foot away, a dog would be able to see two miles away.
Get it? Still think you have a sense of smell? You're and idiot if you do.
A dog can smell an ounce of cocaine anywhere in your house, yet seventeen cops overlook it.
They can smell a person buried a dozen feet beneath a building when it's crawling with workers and their dead-ass noses full of snot from this season's allergies.
A dog can smell if you're pregnant, smell if you're sick, and they can even smell cancer.
Yes, a dog can smell cancer. Look it up. They do all this without an x-ray, MRI, catscan, or one day in medical school.
Two day trails through the woods, no problem. A deer can smell you from two hundred yards away. So can a bear and so can a hundred other animals. A shark can smell blood in the water, can't they.
And what can we smell with our little shnoz? Not a goddamned thing. And yet, we count sniffing as one of our senses!
Please tell me you're not still thinking you have a sense of smell!
We're such idiots. We don't have a fucking sense of smell.
Watch a dog next time you meet one. What's the first thing that dog does? He sniffs your ass! Puts his face right in your bunghole and takes a good whiff, doesn't he?
And if he sees some shit on the ground, what does the dog do? He stops and sniffs it out.
Why do they do that? Because that's how the world smells to them, that's how you smell to them. That's why a deer turns its head in the woods, why a dog runs when you fart, and why animals the world around shit to mark their territory.
You smell like shit. I smell like shit. We all smell like shit!
Believe me, that's the most odoriferous part your nasty-ass body, yes it is, yes it is.
Maybe that's why God took away our sense of smell.
So we can all walk around and act like our shit don't stink.
- Saul
If you could hear a single note at a single tone, would you say you could hear? Or would you call yourself deaf?
That's how we smell, compared to a dog, that is.
See, a dog's sense of smell is 10,000 times more acute than a human's. For instance, if this were sight, then you'd be able to see one foot away, a dog would be able to see two miles away.
Get it? Still think you have a sense of smell? You're and idiot if you do.
A dog can smell an ounce of cocaine anywhere in your house, yet seventeen cops overlook it.
They can smell a person buried a dozen feet beneath a building when it's crawling with workers and their dead-ass noses full of snot from this season's allergies.
A dog can smell if you're pregnant, smell if you're sick, and they can even smell cancer.
Yes, a dog can smell cancer. Look it up. They do all this without an x-ray, MRI, catscan, or one day in medical school.
Two day trails through the woods, no problem. A deer can smell you from two hundred yards away. So can a bear and so can a hundred other animals. A shark can smell blood in the water, can't they.
And what can we smell with our little shnoz? Not a goddamned thing. And yet, we count sniffing as one of our senses!
Please tell me you're not still thinking you have a sense of smell!
We're such idiots. We don't have a fucking sense of smell.
Watch a dog next time you meet one. What's the first thing that dog does? He sniffs your ass! Puts his face right in your bunghole and takes a good whiff, doesn't he?
And if he sees some shit on the ground, what does the dog do? He stops and sniffs it out.
Why do they do that? Because that's how the world smells to them, that's how you smell to them. That's why a deer turns its head in the woods, why a dog runs when you fart, and why animals the world around shit to mark their territory.
You smell like shit. I smell like shit. We all smell like shit!
Believe me, that's the most odoriferous part your nasty-ass body, yes it is, yes it is.
Maybe that's why God took away our sense of smell.
So we can all walk around and act like our shit don't stink.
- Saul
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Things to do with a dead iguana
o Mail it to your boss
o Find a cracked window in the parking lot and drop it into someone's car
o Freeze it and use it as a fetish sex toy
o Give it to a blind kid and say, It's real gentle
o Drop it in any mailbox, scare the shit out of the mailman
o Throw it over the top of the stall in the restroom
o Take it to a scary movie and throw it into the audience during a creepy part
o Hang it from your front door beneath a sign reading, This is the last bastard who tried to break into my house
o Feed it to the neighbor's dog
o Hand it to the drive-through clerk
o Take it to the doctor and ask her if she thinks iguanas can give you herpes
o Use it as a target in a skeet toss
- Saul
o Find a cracked window in the parking lot and drop it into someone's car
o Freeze it and use it as a fetish sex toy
o Give it to a blind kid and say, It's real gentle
o Drop it in any mailbox, scare the shit out of the mailman
o Throw it over the top of the stall in the restroom
o Take it to a scary movie and throw it into the audience during a creepy part
o Hang it from your front door beneath a sign reading, This is the last bastard who tried to break into my house
o Feed it to the neighbor's dog
o Hand it to the drive-through clerk
o Take it to the doctor and ask her if she thinks iguanas can give you herpes
o Use it as a target in a skeet toss
- Saul
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