Ruminations
So the cat died this weekend and we're sad. In related news: I'm still finding the kitchen cupboards left open. So unless kitty is screwing with me from cat heaven, consider yourself busted, girlfriend.
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I've been working such long hours lately that sleep deprivation is causing confusion between my profession and my life. Just today I actually asked the auto shop if they could defragment my oil and update my windshield washer fluid.
No one from any culture can deliver a "What the Fuck?!" quite like an Italian.
While talking to someone about a file on their computer I caught myself gesturing with my hand, holding my thumb and forefinger about an inch apart to indicate something "about this big." God I hope I haven't done this while bragging about my penis.
I'm sorry UPS but your online tracking is not satiating the anticipation of receiving my new computer. Shanghai, Anchorage, Louisville, Toronto, Out for Delivery doesn't cut it. Am I first? Did he stop for coffee? Is he on my street? Can I pee?
"Can I have a diarrhea?" asked the six-year old. "A what?" - "A diarrhea. You know, an empty book with a lock and key on it." - "No sweetie, that's a Diary. Diarrhea is what you'll write in it when you're thirteen."
I'm thankful my BlackBerry is small and light. But I'm more thankful that long gone are the days of reading my email in bed and dropping my laptop on face.
You became my ex because I think you're an idiot. The fact that 5-years later you forward junk email to everyone in your contact list, including me, only serves to remind me every day that I'm still right.
Our six-year old was doing her homework. Happy as shit, head-down, coloring with markers, but every so often she'd say "Fuck!" Startled, I asked what was going on. She held up her picture of a baby seal and said "phoque!" She's in French school.
I guess Spring must be just around the corner. The temperature is slowly rising, and so is the pile of women's fitness magazines on our coffee table.
If it happens to come on, why do I turn up the traffic report when I'm rounding the corner to my house?
I never realized how big of a problem having a girlfriend that doesn't buy me clothes would be until now. After more than two years my socks have more than the one required hole and my boxers have turned into thongs. Something has to go.
I'm always a little disappointed when the breeze doesn't quite catch the figure skater's skirt.
So your ad says your burger comes with Fresh Canadian Mushrooms. How is this important? Is Canadian shit better for growing mushrooms than foreign shit? I did not know this. Is the foreign shit shitty? Shit, if you ask me, it's all fucking shit.
If the way you take your coffee is impossibly confusing to convey, then you do not partake in the coffee run. It's that simple. And I will never, ever, offer again...even if you were on your deathbed. You can have a juice box. I hope you squeeze it.
At first I thought it would be fun, but as a guy I found that watching that whole banana whip violently around in the blender while mixing my morning smoothie quickly became a very disturbing and humbling experience.
If you've been driving for miles with the bright sun beating through your side window, how is it you're caught off guard when you round that bend, slam on your brakes, and grasp frantically for your sun visor? It's not like it snuck up on you.
The combined action of putting your elbows on your desk, your hands on your temples, stretching your face, and looking down intently at your desk while letting out a great big sigh is a surefire cure for stress.
The only thing worse than Bon Jovi coming to town is listening to painful renditions of their songs by fans attempting to score tickets.
I curse you, concave bottom of my almost empty vodka bottle, for fooling me into thinking I'd have a great evening.
I just realized that I keep a large personal space and my muscles tensed to flee whenever I'm talking to a guy who tucks in his sweater.
Oh dear and faithful BlackBerry, you have stood by me for many years. You know everything about me, and I trust you. We are one, my thoughts are yours. I believe that the time has come. The time when you take my place in these fucking meetings.
The overhead sign on the highway reads, "Changing lanes? Look first, signal, then look again." Yeah, that'll work. How about adding, "Pick just one, folks. In THIS lifetime."
People think I'm picky, but really I'm just specific.
Those groomed and chatty couples in cereal commercials irk me. That's not reality. This is reality: my hair looks like a tidal wave; the pillow creases on my face look like an ant colony; and if you do get a response from me, you're getting a grunt.
When I'm feeling indecisive I like to blast my music while ordering at the drive thru, just to see what I'll end up with.
Toyota's sticky accelerator pedal issue could be the best thing that ever happened to my 70-year-old Dad. Here's an idea, Toyota: regift those 4 million vehicles as-is to the elderly. Let's keep traffic flowing and those comb-overs flapping.
My kids were always bored and yelling so I bought a Wii. Now I play it and ignore the yelling. As it turns out my playing sucks, but that's okay, I just ignore that too.
I don't think our relationship is fair. Her avalanche of words always makes a molehill out of my mountain of "Oh. Ok."
My neighbor quit smoking a few days ago. As I expected - just like anyone determined to kick a nasty habit - he's taken up a new hobby: yelling at people on the phone.
You're walking around looking like your ass is in an invisible chair. I could be wrong but do you think that maybe those slutty heels are just a titch too high for ya sweetie? If you were holding a steering wheel I'd swear you had an invisible car.
"Do you know why I pulled you over?" Uh, it's a stretch but I'm going with, "Because you wanted to show me how big of a dick you can be?"
I would get a lot of mileage out of a remotely activated sparkle in my teeth.
I always end up with this overflowing bowl of stupid fucking flakes because I keep holding out for more raisins.
So I've tried rubbing up against my girlfriend when I want something. Nothing. I just don't get it. This works for the cat.
A little panic always sets in when I hear on the news, "A pedestrian was struck late last night at such and such intersection," and then I breathe a giant sigh of relief when I piece together that I wasn't driving through there.
Why bother asking? Just assume I want the biggest slice of pie.
I miss my efficiency as a kid when I could push off my underwear, pants and socks into a perfect figure eight handi-pack, ready to jump right into and go the next morning.
So the Dwarven Battlemasters requested that I help defend in an Epic Battle against the Horde. Again. Well shucks guys, I'm flattered! But I really don't go out with my "friends" on Facebook. So...knock yourselves out. You go get 'em, battle buddies!
Working for a broadcast retailer leaves my values torn. I want everyone to be outdoors, healthy and fit, but my bonus thanks the weekend that just raked in millions selling shape-wrenching panties to all the women on their asses that watch our show.
I gave the jogger an appreciative nod. In that moment we had a special connection, a connection shared by those that brave the elements for the benefit of their bodies. At least that's what I figured while I stood there and finished my smoke.
I want my cupholder hooked up to my steering wheel so when I turn corners it rotates my coffee and doesn't spill.
I consider myself a consummate short order chef and the epitome of class ever since I discovered I can purchase almost any food deliciously prepared and ready to serve, perfect for when friends come over. "Welcome! *SHLOP* That box is yours. Dig in!"
I hate the cold, hard realization that I've exhausted the pool of resources I can delegate my work and responsibilities to. Guess it's time to man up and call in sick.
All my childhood I wondered what gibberish Looney Tunes' Tazmanian Devil was saying. Thank you Lady GaGa, for slowing it right down for us: "RaRa ah-ah-ah RoMa Ro-ma-ma GaGa ooh-la-la."
As we lay there, my exhausted and sweaty body intertwined with hers, my rapid heart rate slowly settling, nothing quite prepared me for the embarrassment of the alarm, and that 3 minutes earlier I had hit "Snooze" instead of "Off".
Being good at what I do means I have the luxury of pretending to be busy doing nothing for days or even weeks on end, and then precisely estimating exactly when I need to start work to knock off a kick-ass deliverable right at the very last moment.
When I'm online shopping I don't want neatly organized product results. I want a big messy pile of images that I can click and drag all over the place until I find a product in my color and size. Oops, that one fell to the footer...oh well.
If I pull up beside a limo I often wonder if there's someone famous inside, like Jessica Alba, looking at me thinking, "Hey, he's kinda cute." Then I pretend to pick my nose, because Jessica: if really want me, you better like the whole package baby.
When I run back in from outside because I forgot something, if I tiptoe very very softly in my wet boots the floor will never get dirty.
Evolution, you need to work on the Chicken. Just look at them: there's enough useless real estate on those things for 6 or 12 wings. Put one on the head for a baker's dozen. Stupid looking maybe, but think of it as opportunistic preservationism.
I wish I could uninvent the Internet and get some shit done.
Ok, so all your girlfriends are here and talked about the book for 5 minutes and now you're talking about, well, nothing really. Mostly the dog. So when exactly do the clothes come off and the pillow fights start? This isn't what I envisioned at all.
While filling in comments on my annual performance review I was about to write "My door is always open," but realized I sit in a cubicle. I can't decide between "My gap is always open" or "My crack is always open." I'm so confused.
When I win the lottery the first personal assistant I'm going to hire will be my freshly-washed-jean-stretcher slash dog-walker person. They'll walk the dog in my jeans like a stiff-legged Ken doll for an hour while I get ready, then hand them over.
Why is it when I leave a handwritten note for someone that I also feel the need to pose the pen beside it? It's like, "Hey, see what I left for you?! And I did it with THIS!!"
I love being an interviewer and free to ask that inane question that even I have no idea what a good answer is, just to watch them squirm. "So, tell me about a time when your cubicle played an instrumental role in solving a complicated issue."
I soon realized after hand-sanitizing that if I didn't want that foul taste in my mouth I'd have to find another way to get that piece of gum in. Little did I know that both my nose and my chin pressed against my desk make this near impossible to do.
There's a Japanese buffet near work whose policy is to charge for unfinished rice, sushi, or sashimi. I'm not a big fan of this cuisine, but I'm proud to say I left nothing on my plate. The floor around my chair was a disgusting mess though.
I know why people wish their kids would stay young forever: Airplanes. I know shit about airplanes. And now that they're older, the answer "Because" just doesn't cut it with the kids anymore. Keep 'em young folks, and avoid questions about airplanes.
With the strange weather lately I'm just waiting for some ass to say, "Yeah, it sure was cold on my tropical vacation. But it's a dry cold."
I think a key criteria for being a drive thru employee is that you fit within the confines of the serving window. I find it disturbing that my daily coffee is handed to me by a headless torso named 'Doug' with hairy arms.
I don't care how stupid I look, once I've been teased by the clarity I will contort and rotate my jaw, straining my oral cavity to no end until that last ear finally pops.
I just stepped out of a knowledge transfer session with a new project manager and realized that I can succinctly characterize my personality with this statement: If you don't immediately understand what I'm trying to explain to you, you're an idiot.
The cute receptionist left me a voice mail saying, "Hi. I have a small box for you." So I'm wondering, do I bring flowers?
Forget the fad diets and impossible exercise regimes, the results speak for themselves! With my simple yet effective "Get divorced, pack half my salary into support payments, and start smoking again" plan I lost 50lbs in a year, and it stayed off!
"Touch Free" carwashes are as useless at cleaning the backside of my car as "Touch Free" would be at cleaning my ass in the shower.
I feel omnipotent when I back into a parking spot and, upon returning to my car, realize that I was THE guy that influenced all the other drivers to park facing the same way.
"What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas" should be written on every casino washroom door.
I just can't read the word "doer" without adding an apostrophe, and a pervy snort.
Your radio ad: "Bring on the white stuff! Our selection of blowers, plows and spreaders are here to help." My mind: Gutter.
I wish I could use Google's Moderate SafeSearch filter when logging into my bank account.
How cool would it be to be named William, and be called Will.I.Am? What's that? Your name is Dickuare?
I thought I'd heard everything until, "Only two toilets per customer at Lowe's."
For just $1 a day I rented a digital video recorder from my cable provider and now I can fast forward all the emotionally manipulative "For just $1 a day" commercials.
"Holding down the fort," between Christmas and New Year's in the office can be loosely translated into, "Doing fuck all."
I wish, after a long weekend away, I could watch a "Previously, on the Internet..." recap, like my favorite television series.
I'd be a lousy Santa. I'm pretty sure after the first 20 story high rise of 300 apartments I'd say, "Screw this shit, you've all been naughty," dump all the gifts and just go home.
I would totally eat liver if cows drank Piña Coladas.
I'm convinced that when some people change lanes they grab the wheel for dear life, wrench their face into a blood vessel bursting wince, shut their eyes tight and yell, "omigod, omigod, omigod, OMIGOD!" until the whole near-death experience is over.
You know how sometimes you hear me snoring when I sleep? Well sometimes mommy's snores sound like "OH! OH! OHHH!" That's probably what you heard...isn't she so funny?! Now run along and play with your Polly Pockets.
I'm squeezing in some last minute home repairs. There'll be no, "I asked you to do that LAST YEAR" for this handy guy.
I like to sit back and admire all those people who accomplish so much more than me in a day.
I have no idea what your meeting was about. All I remember was that the plate of treats was at the other end of the table and nobody was passing that shit down.
I like to send random messages to my friends asking if they have the song, "I'm a little teapot short and stout. Here is my handle and here is my spout," playing incessantly in their heads...and if they do, don't blame me.
Sometimes when I drag my ass through the morning routine, fumble through the shower, bash myself clean, accept the hair result, and wear whatever falls off the hanger, I feel I should throw open my door to the world and yell, "Ta da! Fuckers."
No, I do not agree that it would be funny to "go to work with your hair like that."
Imagine a roadie doing a sound check through a bazillion gigawatt sound system. Imagine him chewing his lunch, smacking his lips, vacuuming his fingers. Even multiplied 100x this is still not even remotely close to the trough feeder sitting near me.
When my day is so busy that I don't even have time to pee, if I'm faced with the decision on how to use a few spare minutes between meetings I'll always opt for cramming another coffee in that bladder somewhere.
Hey Mr. Truck Driver! Trailer? Be my guest and tuck right in ahead of me. No trailer? Well then, you're just a prick like everyone else. Sorry bucko.
It's so annoying to follow a driver whose sense of urgency is just slightly off from everyone else - keeping pace but with a delay. I bet this is the same guy in a crowd who still claps after everyone has stopped.
Being a sarcastic ass and deadpan deliverer of dry humor comes with a bonus: the simmering silence after planting a bomb on a recipient, and their facial contortions as the gears spin into smoking overload before it finally clicks that I was joking.
The dog wants to play fetch constantly. He's incessant. I really don't understand what he sees in that ball, but I shouldn't judge. Who knows what my obsessive compulsive fixation would be if I was castrated and no longer had an interest in sex.
My cat has taken to sitting beside me and grabbing my arm each time my hand moves from the bag of chips to my mouth. Ok, seriously, back off cat. One nagging bitch is about all I can take.
I learned a new acronym while on course this week: MSIL - Microsoft Intermediate Language Format. Yeah, no. Nice try, Microsoft.
When I see pictures of my dad as a teen in the 50's I think, "Hey, he was pretty cool in his day." I just hope that one day my kids will look beyond the 80's hair band rock-male cameltoe and feel the same about me.
The only time I'm religious is when I pull off the highway after driving three hours in a snowstorm.
I feel sad for all the lost scrunchies I see on the sidewalks. Why does this happen? Is there so much tension that they launch out of your hair? Can I lose an eye?
But I didn't ask for a "flavor string" in my Wendy's sandwich.
The amount of time a pillow crease takes to fade from your face is directly proportional to the amount of alcohol consumed the night before.
Sears is now selling women's panties in "extended" size. If your panties are starting to carry the same warnings as transport trucks, perhaps it's time to rethink your lifestyle.
I don't think dogs would ever have caught on as pets if their only means of mobility was that butt-dragging thing they sometimes do.
No matter the occasion, there always has to be that one fucking card that keeps falling down whenever I walk by.
I wonder what it's like to be a baby, just sitting there doing your own thing, picking the fluff off the carpet, whatever, and then suddenly those pieces of fluff get smaller and smaller as you're violently yanked upwards by some force with hands.
A hit song is like a ham sandwich: consumed daily for months until you just can't stomach them anymore. Then in 10 years you find yourself singing along to that golden oldie, while bumping and grinding a loaf of bread and crooning into a ham roll.
Just because that fork suddenly stopped dead as it hit my teeth and those peas flew everywhere doesn't mean I have aim issues in general.
Sometimes when I realize I've been too quiet at my desk - because all I've done is clicked one internet link after another - I'll open notepad and rapidly type gibberish for a few minutes, and sigh. Just so anyone listening knows I'm hard at work.
I can deal with rain but I can't deal with that single drop that parachutes in straight for the scalp, pauses, then weaves its way down the side of my head, resting atop my ear momentarily before running slowly behind it and dripping on on my neck.
I just don't get people who expect straight answers.
For Christmas I get a rent payment, and you get a nice warm bed that you can wrap and unwrap every day for a whole year!
I wish my real life didn't interfere with my online creativity.
We need a classification system for job stresses so people in unrelated careers can bitch about their days on a common scale. Database replication issue? Level 4. DIV/0 error on that balance sheet? Level 3. I win! My day sucked harder than yours.
So I see that with you size does matter. Not only are you a dick, you're a huge one.
While driving to work and my passenger is sleeping, it's fun to make subtle directional changes just to see how a small movement of the wheel translates into grossly exaggerated body sways. Whoa! Nice! Almost smacked your head into window that time!
I'm pretty sure the people on the other end of the conference call aren't silently mouthing profanities, cutting up the imbecile comments, mimicking masturbation, and laughing uncontrollably while repeatedly hitting mute like I am.
Every month while my girlfriend is closed for repairs is when I assume the important role of traffic cop, and safely direct everyone away from her.
It's an empty gift wrap tube! Of course I'm going to do something raunchy to you with it.
I always have to laugh when I see the pristine "Savings" button on a debit card PIN pad.
I'm lousy at remembering names and it takes me a few times to recall a face, but your kick-ass body? That image is permanently etched in my filthy and perverted mind within nanoseconds.
I just can't picture myself all withered, gray, hunched over, shakily pushing my walker over to the radio and slowly lifting my trembling hand to turn up Limp Bizkit's "Nookie".
When it comes to sex, an empty house should never be wasted.
It's truly astonishing how quickly my mind can translate inappropriate sexual innuendo into appropriate English.
I wonder if cops ever say to themselves, "Ha! Beat that, Moses!"
Yes sweetie, you were right about that one small thing and I was wrong. You are now entitled to be impossible to live with for one month.
While I appreciate you wanting the morning sex, I'm really not a morning person. So if you're okay with being battered randomly by my marionette limbs while I struggle to wake up, then let's give it a go.
I like clothes shopping with my girl because there's a real good chance that I'll get to see her in something tight and skanky that she'll never end up buying. Hmm, I'm not sure...turn around once more?
Just try paying attention in a meeting room with a window. I dare you.
When my kids whine, all the nerves in my body instantaneously morph into one giant super-nerve that they proceed to funny bone the shit out of.
Hey morning drive-thru, when will you effectively satisfy my napkin requirements? You're having a cookie today? Ok, take 10! A messy breakfast sandwich? Here...have a napkin fragment.
If I can just crawl out of bed tomorrow without hitting the floor, it's going to be a good day.
Yes, Mom, I know the girls were all after me when my hair was long and feathered, but that was more than 20 years ago. Now put away those pictures and help me write my profile so I don't end up with a girl like the last disaster you picked.
You just wrote "prolly". I just clicked my "Drop ACME 5-Ton Weight" button.
Why can't you pedestrians all cross in a bunch? I'm trying to turn here! Oh great, another one. No, really, YOU go.
There's nothing worse than waking at night with a drool infused pillow, flipping it, and finding out that you've already done this once before.
Thanks so much for calling out of the blue and taking that five minutes to catch up on months of what's been happening in my life before asking how to fix your computer problem.
Work. Sleep. Repeat. Retire. Wear socks with sandals. Die.
I step through the door and suddenly I can't move! My arms and legs keep moving forward then snap back because my waist won't budge. I stand frozen, confused. Finally it hits me and I discretely unhook my belt loop from the latch. I'm such a tool.
Every calm sunny day that requires a light jacket or less should be a day off.
There's nothing I look forward to less than waking up and having to be sociable again.
Smart Cars are escape pods jettisoned by larger vehicles moments before impact.
Who's great idea was it to put Santa at the END of this fucking parade?
Ok, so maybe my 7-seater minivan doesn't reflect the size of my penis, but it clearly reflects it's effectiveness.
One of the highlights of being an instructor of high performance driving has got to be the smug cop who screamed like a little girl in my passenger seat for 15 laps around the racetrack. I was a happy civilian that day! He was happy to crawl out.
Turning 40 really sucked until I realized that my next wife will be born any day now.
Why do I fast-walk through the office? Because it minimizes the chance of you ambushing me and asking for something.
Every pair of guys pants should come with a string in the pocket that you pull to discreetly free your nuts from an annoying pinch.
My keyboard needs a removable crumb tray like my toaster.
Don't you hate when that single text message is delivered hours later due to some glitch and it's now completely off topic and awkward? "Ok I'll meet you at your Mom's house" "heh heh...all over you with my tongue baby"
Ok, so my little wiener dog might be minuscule next to your salivating monster, but laugh it up the next time the Bud girls swarm me on the beach boardwalk squealing "Awww! He's sooo keeewwwt!"
The 20th century gave us antibiotics, automobiles, vaccinations, computers...so many life-changing discoveries. Imagine how hard it will be to start the 21st century list, I mean after FarmVille and the Twilight franchise, of course.
"Eat your cereal or the cute little bunny will die," seemed like a good idea at the time.
I always yell "That Bitch!" whenever my debit card is declined, even though I'm the only one who has access to my account.
Shouldn't the cereal box read, "scrunch the inner bag"? I mean, come on...who actually "re-rolls"?
If you stand at the sink holding the knife you just buttered your bread with under the water, patiently waiting while it gets hot, and then smiling in amazement as the butter magically whooshes away...that counts as washing it, right?
Seriously, is there anything cooler than pulling that soft, warm, spongy, multi-layered thick blanket of lint off the dryer filter in one glorious piece?
Ugh! I hate Christmas shopping! Fucking crowded websites.
I'm waiting for the MythBusters episode when Adam and Jamie blow each other up.
When I grocery shop 50% of my time is spent filling my cart while the other 50% is spent trying to open those stupid plastic veggie bags.
In my carefully conducted study of who gets more parking tickets in front of my house, ugly people and men are in the lead. Oh hold on a sec...gotta run out and tell this hot chick she better move her car.
Just once I'd like to see that last piece of food actually have my name written all over it.
Hey Dyson, for that price I better have no carpets left when I'm done.
I'd want to go to the gym way more if it wasn't there.
Damn you music videos! Every Black Eyed Peas song totally sucks until that day when Fergie gazes wantonly at me from my TV.
Nothing satisfies me more than that moment when I get to mimic the victory dance of my Mii.
I think we should start seeing other people. Specifically Girls. At the same time.
Who the hell would ever use the Word Of The Day other than the person who writes the Word Of The Day? "Hey Jim, that sure was a soporific meeting!" "Hahaha! Fuck off Bob, you're a fucking idiot."
That's right Mr. Big Rig Driver, I totally jumped your turn at the 4-way intersection. Honk all you want, I'm already a mile away. Oh look! You've moved 5 feet and made it to 10th gear! Good job, good buddy!
Leaving Walmart inspires me to remind everyone: what has been seen can never be unseen.
Thanks for posting the pics of our get-together dinner without letting me screen them first. Now the entire world knows I had pesto.
When I talk to my kids their eyes drift slowly away from my face towards the TV. Kinda like when my girlfriend talks to me and my eyes drift slowly away to the blinking light on my BlackBerry.
I wonder if our parents realized how far ahead of Yoda's time they were when they coined the phrase "I kid you not".
Simultaneously texting two women with the same first name is as tense as diffusing a bomb.
Sure, I'll gather in reception to welcome...er...point and laugh at our "Model For A Day" contest winner. Yes, I'm a sore loser. I'm going to crush your aspirations, pretty girl.
I wish I had a machine like a car-wash that I could just walk into naked and come out the other end all clean, styled, and dressed.
I always drive so carefully when I forget my license. Doesn't everyone? They should just change that law.
If I call you and ask what you wore today, it is not the outer layer I'm interested in.
GIRLS! A furnace fan has 2 speeds: ON or OFF. A furnace has two temperatures: HOT or NOT HOT. Cranking the shit out of the thermostat will not make you warmer faster. Same goes for A/C, but that's lesson 2...this is a lot for one day.
We've all heard that if you stare at an eclipse of the sun you'll go blind. But who is studying the long-term effects of staring at those retina-frying road-side TV billboards at night? Talk about distracted driving.
I just pressed 2 to indicate I was completely satisfied with my vehicle service on Saturday. How warm and heartfelt. I'm fighting back the tears. Press 3 to hug me.
I would take all this vaccination stuff a lot more seriously if every time I saw that acronym I didn't read "Hiney Virus"
I think all mobile technology was invented because some guy just had enough of people saying, "Going somewhere?" every time he would check his watch.
Re: On Vacation. Dear Receptionist, I believe I speak on behalf of the other 499 employees here when I say we really don't give a shit.
I knew my night was looking up when she asked for another drink from the Funch Pountain.
If I've heard you on the phone and you sound like that Russian guy from Star Trek, you can be damn sure that I'm also going to read your emails to myself in that accent.
"LA! LA! LA! I'm not listening!" *hands on ears* is a powerful conversation technique that shouldn't diminish with maturity.
Classmates.com: The Columbia House of social networking sites.
Nothing kills the mood quite like a loud FFFTSSSHT! and the camera flash from under the covers.
On one hand my girlfriend's ability to remember specifics is invaluable. On the other hand I'm dead meat one day.
I think there should be a mechanical device that shoves the people who stop right at the bottom of an escalator sideways, really violently.
Laundry Bonus: when you wear the same outfit on Monday that you wore on Sunday because no one you know saw you.
I have become quite proficient at creating some of the most god-awful tasting mixed drinks out of desperation.
I'd really like a makeover. I'm thinking a pixelated face, a deep monotonic voice...oh, and maybe some highlights.
I want to know if there's a tactful way to read a woman's printed t-shirt. Only women are allowed to do this, which leads me to believe they're using this medium to post anti-male messages to each other and getting away with it.
I just received a personalised recognition package commemorating my service milestone within the company, generated by an automated system that I built myself. I'm not quite sure who to hug.
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