1/9/10
5/19/08
If it happens again, call a doctor
Last night for dinner I had corn, a baked potato and some chicken.
I washed this all down with red crystal light.
This morning I took a dump and my turds looked like they had little berries in them.
Apparently the crystal light stained the corn.
I washed this all down with red crystal light.
This morning I took a dump and my turds looked like they had little berries in them.
Apparently the crystal light stained the corn.
4/9/08
3/25/08
Cause and effect
So here I am, another sunny mid-60's spring day in the greatest state of the union. Working. Hard. I'm dealing with deadlines, audits, reviews, and anything else imaginable. So the morning flew by. I can't wait to get out of here today, it's so nice out. In an attempt to speed up the day I resort to a tool that has proven infallible over the course of my career and adult life, I decide to roll the newspaper under my arm and go take a dump.
This is usually the highlight of my day.
I roll into the john which is approximately 3 inches under water. It seems that a toilet overflowed all night long and flooded the lavatory. Unfazed, I decide to proceed with my plan. I walk up to my usual handicrapper and this is the one that's causing the problem. So I go two over to a smaller foreign stall. I think in the 7 years I've been crapping in this building I've never used this stall before.
So I'm sitting there in this unknown place, the walls...closer, the lights...harsher, the seat....harder. It's like being in a hot church in a thick suit and no matter how many times you tug at your collar you just can't get comfortable (winking at Paul). Everything is familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.
Two gentlemen walk in. They're the repair guys.
I know this because I lean forward to examine shoes. At this point I can recognize any male in the by their shoes and cuffs. As I lean forward a fart slips out of my ass. Now this is where the story turns. I don't know if it was the speed of the fart, the dimensions of the stall, the standing shitwater I'm sitting it but something resonated perfectly with that fart. Perfectly. The only example I can think of is when you blow into a jug. This fart made that exact noise. Like a "WHOOOOOOOOOOOOT". This noise which would never be recognized as a fart alarms the two repair guys. Their conversation goes like this:
#1: What was that? (this is when I lose it and start cracking up)
#2: I think it's the backpressure on the pipes collapsing. The valve must be seized.
#1: Maybe we should turn the water off on the building and try to unseize the valve.
#2: Good idea.
(they exit)
I finish up about 25 minutes later. I go to wash my hands...no water. So I go into the kitchen...no water.
Basically as a result of my fart, maintenance shut the water off on the building.
12:40 quick check....still no water.
This is usually the highlight of my day.
I roll into the john which is approximately 3 inches under water. It seems that a toilet overflowed all night long and flooded the lavatory. Unfazed, I decide to proceed with my plan. I walk up to my usual handicrapper and this is the one that's causing the problem. So I go two over to a smaller foreign stall. I think in the 7 years I've been crapping in this building I've never used this stall before.
So I'm sitting there in this unknown place, the walls...closer, the lights...harsher, the seat....harder. It's like being in a hot church in a thick suit and no matter how many times you tug at your collar you just can't get comfortable (winking at Paul). Everything is familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.
Two gentlemen walk in. They're the repair guys.
I know this because I lean forward to examine shoes. At this point I can recognize any male in the by their shoes and cuffs. As I lean forward a fart slips out of my ass. Now this is where the story turns. I don't know if it was the speed of the fart, the dimensions of the stall, the standing shitwater I'm sitting it but something resonated perfectly with that fart. Perfectly. The only example I can think of is when you blow into a jug. This fart made that exact noise. Like a "WHOOOOOOOOOOOOT". This noise which would never be recognized as a fart alarms the two repair guys. Their conversation goes like this:
#1: What was that? (this is when I lose it and start cracking up)
#2: I think it's the backpressure on the pipes collapsing. The valve must be seized.
#1: Maybe we should turn the water off on the building and try to unseize the valve.
#2: Good idea.
(they exit)
I finish up about 25 minutes later. I go to wash my hands...no water. So I go into the kitchen...no water.
Basically as a result of my fart, maintenance shut the water off on the building.
12:40 quick check....still no water.
3/20/08
They're even better cold
I had 2 seven layer burritos for lunch today.
I ate 6 of the layers and left 8 for later.
I ate 6 of the layers and left 8 for later.
3/15/08
Dangers of corduroy
yeah, so I'm wearing cords today, but I forgot. So when I went to sit down I rubbed my legs together and it sounded like someone whistled at me. I looked up real quick, lost my balance and fell on the floor. All with a glass of water in my hand. I now feel like a porn star.
Wet with a sore ass.
Wet with a sore ass.
3/10/08
Working at the car wash, yeah
This story begins Saturday. I tried to get my car washed in about 5 different places. Then yesterday I go to about another 6. They're all too full. I go today at lunchtime and the first three on my list are super full (Gives me an idea to open a car wash). Well I finally bite the bullet and go to a fourth hand car wash, the clocktower on rt 17. Well. It's real small and I'm not too familiar with it but I end up waiting about 25 minutes for a car wash. So I'm up, scrub scrub scrub, rinse rinse rinse. I get told to drive out. I ease the car into gear and pop over the bump that triggers the water sprayer. Right? Nope. It's not the bump that triggers the water sprayer. It's the bump the tiny mexican scrubbing my car calls a foot. That's right, uhh uhh, I ran over his foot. I knew this because I heard a high-pitched AAAAAIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE scream. I pull around, get out and check on him. They were laughing at me which leads me to believe I fell for the oldest car washing joke in the book or it happens all the time.
3/1/08
Beast
About 3 weeks ago, when it was really nice out, I decided to air out the basement. I opened the big sliding glass doors and left them for a few hours on a Saturday. Around 9ish, it was time to feed the dogs. I usually separate them with a baby gate because they tend to eat each other's food. So I fill up their dishes, drop them as usually and pull the gate across. As I slide my hand across it, walking away, I feel something odd. I glanced down to see this odd feeling thing and noticed it was a Praying Mantis. Well, for some reason a sound like a car alarm came out of my mouth. YEEP YEEP YEEP YEEP YEEP YEEP YEEP YEEP YEEP YEEP! Yes, easily 10 times as I calmly walked upstairs to the kitchen.
Of course, this scared everyone 2 flights up. I told them what it was while I got a piece of tupperware and they made fun of me. So I captured the ravenous beast and promptly showed it to them making them scream like girls. This thing was easily 5 inches long and said "thank you sir" as I let it outside.
Of course, this scared everyone 2 flights up. I told them what it was while I got a piece of tupperware and they made fun of me. So I captured the ravenous beast and promptly showed it to them making them scream like girls. This thing was easily 5 inches long and said "thank you sir" as I let it outside.
2/20/08
Paging Mr. Foulass
I'm starting to truly believe my farts and this company's intercom system are connected because whenever I rip a good stinky fart someone comes marching on in as if I paged them.
Just because I'm in a bad mood I didn't warn this person about the fart that had just been laid and watched her face turn from smiles to sheer terror.
Just because I'm in a bad mood I didn't warn this person about the fart that had just been laid and watched her face turn from smiles to sheer terror.
2/15/08
In a bind
So I just got my new worker compensation insurance policy for work in the mail. I go to stick it in the binder which at one point held only the auto insurance but has since become home for all my corporate insurance policy.
I hold this contraption together with a massive binder clip. Since the company has grown all the policy paperwork has grown. The binder is a pretty blue, made of vinyl and somewhat thin and flexible.
Here goes.
I slide the new policy into the binder and go to clip it. With considerable effort I open the clip enough to slip it around all the materials within.
As soon as I let go the clip slides off the binder and launches itself into a sojourn under my desk. I go to retrieve it.
Now the sad part.
As I bend over to get under my desk my entire shirttail comes out exposing my bulbous and milky ass. The clip is just out of reach. I reach further and further until the wheels give out under me and shoot the chair into the back wall with a resounding thud.
So basically. I'm face down on the ground with my ass high in the air and as if on cue my boss walks into my office. Sees the display I've put on shakes his head and looks at me.
I was at a loss for words. So I pretended my phone was ringing and picked it up.
I hold this contraption together with a massive binder clip. Since the company has grown all the policy paperwork has grown. The binder is a pretty blue, made of vinyl and somewhat thin and flexible.
Here goes.
I slide the new policy into the binder and go to clip it. With considerable effort I open the clip enough to slip it around all the materials within.
As soon as I let go the clip slides off the binder and launches itself into a sojourn under my desk. I go to retrieve it.
Now the sad part.
As I bend over to get under my desk my entire shirttail comes out exposing my bulbous and milky ass. The clip is just out of reach. I reach further and further until the wheels give out under me and shoot the chair into the back wall with a resounding thud.
So basically. I'm face down on the ground with my ass high in the air and as if on cue my boss walks into my office. Sees the display I've put on shakes his head and looks at me.
I was at a loss for words. So I pretended my phone was ringing and picked it up.
2/10/08
Precognition
I can smell the future. For example the fart I'm gonna lay after I type this email....I already know what it smell like: Burnt Toast covered in used motor oil with cabbage and a dog turd on top of it.
2/1/08
Co-pilot
So my Palm pilot breaks down and I send it for warranty repair 3 days ago. I sent it UPS next morning air. I haven't shit since then. I had no idea how dependent I was on my palm pilot for shitting. Well it comes in today. Remarkable turn around time. As soon as I open the package and see my shiny new palm pilot (no cost) I instantly get the most throbbing painful stomachache. I run (ok walk real quickly with ass clenched) to the shitter and have a good old-fashioned EXPLOSIONSHIT. I felt air rush out of the slats above the rim and below the seat and the grout in the tiles turned grayish.
1/10/08
Snow job
Ok, let me fill you in on my last two days.
Monday 5:45 pm: It's cold. So cold. I'm buried to my hips in snow. I dig my truck out so I don't have to bother tuesday morning. It's been a boring uneventful day off filled with Playstation and computer time. It's cold. I decide to make myself a nice warm soup. The water is boiling so I pull it off the stove. This is when I notice a bright flash on my sweater sleeve. I thought it was a reflection from the pot. It's not. This is when I smell a scent reminiscent of burning human flesh. Mine specifically. Yes, my sweater was on fire. I pull it off and chuckle. It's only begun.
Tuesday 7:00am: I call the office and the message says we're closed. Sweet.
Tuesday 8:30 am: I call the office to check my voicemail. We're open. Dammit.
Tuesday 9:00am: The goddammed snowplow covered my truck in snow once again.
So I dig it out all over again. After some difficulty I pull it out. This is when I notice my truck is pulling right. I get out and low and behold I have a flat. I think my situation over. I decide to take it to the gas station and pay them to change it. The guy tells me to move the truck and it won't start. I slam the keys on the counter and tell him the truck is his.
Tuesday : 10:00am: After walking home from the gas station I dig the jeep out and come to work.
That's about it for now.
Monday 5:45 pm: It's cold. So cold. I'm buried to my hips in snow. I dig my truck out so I don't have to bother tuesday morning. It's been a boring uneventful day off filled with Playstation and computer time. It's cold. I decide to make myself a nice warm soup. The water is boiling so I pull it off the stove. This is when I notice a bright flash on my sweater sleeve. I thought it was a reflection from the pot. It's not. This is when I smell a scent reminiscent of burning human flesh. Mine specifically. Yes, my sweater was on fire. I pull it off and chuckle. It's only begun.
Tuesday 7:00am: I call the office and the message says we're closed. Sweet.
Tuesday 8:30 am: I call the office to check my voicemail. We're open. Dammit.
Tuesday 9:00am: The goddammed snowplow covered my truck in snow once again.
So I dig it out all over again. After some difficulty I pull it out. This is when I notice my truck is pulling right. I get out and low and behold I have a flat. I think my situation over. I decide to take it to the gas station and pay them to change it. The guy tells me to move the truck and it won't start. I slam the keys on the counter and tell him the truck is his.
Tuesday : 10:00am: After walking home from the gas station I dig the jeep out and come to work.
That's about it for now.
1/1/08
Parking dilemma
My parking spot at work is inside the building, in an area reserved for only those who work in this building - may not work for my company, as there are other tenants. The parking area is tight - there are structural columns every twenty feet in all directions, and they have squeezed parking out of the smallest spaces in order to make more money. It’s difficult for me to get out of my parking spot and the rest of the garage for that matter if it’s not the end of the day, as many "longer" cars block my path.
Anyway, I came in on Monday and there was a car in my spot. And "my spot" means the one that I'm assigned, and not just the one that I like to take because I've used it for a long time. This really pissed me off as now I had to go find another spot without taking someone else's and causing another problem for myself. I could have left and parked in the parkway lot outside the building, but that's a big pain in the ass since there is only one door in or out of the garage, and there were a constant stream of cars coming in; I'd be waiting all day to leave. I called around to my coworkers and found a not quite so legal spot that someone who was on vacation usually uses.
I marched over to my spot and took a look at the car there It was a brand new grey elicipse with NJ license plates. I boldly opened the passenger door - unlocked - and went into the glove compartment to find out who it belong to. Chris or Lori Schwartz of Manasquan, NJ. Well it was no one that I worked with, it’s probably someone else in the building or some ass who just followed people into our garage thinking it was public parking.
Next stop building office. I complained about this strange car in my spot - but they were more concerned about where I was parking since I couldn't park there. I guess they didn't want a constant stream of people coming in as people parked "one over' from where they normally parked. They accepted where I temporarily left my car and said that they would leave a "note" on the car. What I about towing it away like they say on signs all over the place? Well, that's an empty threat, as they can't fit a tow truck into the garage when there are people there. So pretty much the car was there for the day.
My brain percolated all day along about this. Some guy was laughing at me cause he got my spot and made me run around. But what could I do? I thought about a brick / rock to a window, but since I had complained about it, I think they would know who to ask about it.. No, this needed a more subtle approach. After much deliberation, I printed out the following message
I DRINK URINE FOR MY HEALTH
and taped it to his bumper with packing tape - away from Mr. / Mrs. Schwartz's view as they would have gotten back into the car in the evening.
It brightened my day thinking of everyone looking at this car driving up the turnpike with that homemade bumper sticker.
Anyway, I came in on Monday and there was a car in my spot. And "my spot" means the one that I'm assigned, and not just the one that I like to take because I've used it for a long time. This really pissed me off as now I had to go find another spot without taking someone else's and causing another problem for myself. I could have left and parked in the parkway lot outside the building, but that's a big pain in the ass since there is only one door in or out of the garage, and there were a constant stream of cars coming in; I'd be waiting all day to leave. I called around to my coworkers and found a not quite so legal spot that someone who was on vacation usually uses.
I marched over to my spot and took a look at the car there It was a brand new grey elicipse with NJ license plates. I boldly opened the passenger door - unlocked - and went into the glove compartment to find out who it belong to. Chris or Lori Schwartz of Manasquan, NJ. Well it was no one that I worked with, it’s probably someone else in the building or some ass who just followed people into our garage thinking it was public parking.
Next stop building office. I complained about this strange car in my spot - but they were more concerned about where I was parking since I couldn't park there. I guess they didn't want a constant stream of people coming in as people parked "one over' from where they normally parked. They accepted where I temporarily left my car and said that they would leave a "note" on the car. What I about towing it away like they say on signs all over the place? Well, that's an empty threat, as they can't fit a tow truck into the garage when there are people there. So pretty much the car was there for the day.
My brain percolated all day along about this. Some guy was laughing at me cause he got my spot and made me run around. But what could I do? I thought about a brick / rock to a window, but since I had complained about it, I think they would know who to ask about it.. No, this needed a more subtle approach. After much deliberation, I printed out the following message
I DRINK URINE FOR MY HEALTH
and taped it to his bumper with packing tape - away from Mr. / Mrs. Schwartz's view as they would have gotten back into the car in the evening.
It brightened my day thinking of everyone looking at this car driving up the turnpike with that homemade bumper sticker.
12/1/07
Memorial
This one begins benign enough. Hardly the stuff of humor. Somehow in this cosmic mess I call a life the inconceivable occurs only to me leaving me to ponder my role in the universe and the meaning of my life. All that I describe is true, unembellished, and painfully factual.
There's a new guy we hired a couple months ago that I think is one of the best guys I've ever met. He's a mid 50's Bobby Duvall looking fella, with a great personality and a history of success. His mother passed away monday and the procession was today. I decided to go and in no way am I finding this situation humorous. I will only give you events from my humble perspective.
So begins the chain that led to this email.
I walk in to the memorial hall and am greeted by an employee of the hall. He directs me to the rear of the building and hands me a black cloth. I curiously looked at the cloth and figured it was a memorial card or something. As I mentioned this guy is successful so I figured this was a luxury item. I unfolded the cloth and realized it was empty. At the same time the guy that handed me this psssssst'ed me. I turned around and looked at him point at me then his head. I figured he was complimenting me on my full head of hair since he was completely bald. So I smiled, winked and gave him a thumbs up as a thank you. Now mind you I'm only about 5 seconds into this adventure. That's how long it took me to realize that I was in fact holding a yarmulke. So I slapped it on my head and it immediately falls off. I put it back on and it slides off again. My head is too big and the yarmulke is too small. So I figure as long as I look down, this thing will stay on my head.
I sit.
The guy I know is giving a wonderful memorial about his mother. Pausing for recollection and remembrance. Very well done. Now it's important to note it's about 12:30 and I came on my lunch hour. YOU GUESS IT. During one of the pauses my stomach lets out a roar that is still probably reverbing in that hall. I sit up straight hoping that stretching my stomach muscles will curtail the growl. Instead I catapult my beanie into the lap of the guy behind me. He hands it back to me and says something klingonish. ACK HOYT BUN SCHITZEL. I smile, wink and give him the thumbs up too.
Now the cantor.
This guy out of nowhere let's out this sound into the microphone that I would describe as a cross between willy nelson and fred durst. EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHHHHHH (the E sound in THE). He gets my undivided attention. What he does next I cannot explain in words but let's just say this was a long and very comical song. A cross between a chant, clearing your throat and hocking a lugee. The best part is that he really can't sing and the gain on his mic is too high causing it to clip. The wierdest part is that the whole time he's doing this he's staring right at me. I'm not laughing or anything, but it was at this moment I decide to write this email. I smiled, winked at him and gave him a thumbs up as well.
I leave.
There's a new guy we hired a couple months ago that I think is one of the best guys I've ever met. He's a mid 50's Bobby Duvall looking fella, with a great personality and a history of success. His mother passed away monday and the procession was today. I decided to go and in no way am I finding this situation humorous. I will only give you events from my humble perspective.
So begins the chain that led to this email.
I walk in to the memorial hall and am greeted by an employee of the hall. He directs me to the rear of the building and hands me a black cloth. I curiously looked at the cloth and figured it was a memorial card or something. As I mentioned this guy is successful so I figured this was a luxury item. I unfolded the cloth and realized it was empty. At the same time the guy that handed me this psssssst'ed me. I turned around and looked at him point at me then his head. I figured he was complimenting me on my full head of hair since he was completely bald. So I smiled, winked and gave him a thumbs up as a thank you. Now mind you I'm only about 5 seconds into this adventure. That's how long it took me to realize that I was in fact holding a yarmulke. So I slapped it on my head and it immediately falls off. I put it back on and it slides off again. My head is too big and the yarmulke is too small. So I figure as long as I look down, this thing will stay on my head.
I sit.
The guy I know is giving a wonderful memorial about his mother. Pausing for recollection and remembrance. Very well done. Now it's important to note it's about 12:30 and I came on my lunch hour. YOU GUESS IT. During one of the pauses my stomach lets out a roar that is still probably reverbing in that hall. I sit up straight hoping that stretching my stomach muscles will curtail the growl. Instead I catapult my beanie into the lap of the guy behind me. He hands it back to me and says something klingonish. ACK HOYT BUN SCHITZEL. I smile, wink and give him the thumbs up too.
Now the cantor.
This guy out of nowhere let's out this sound into the microphone that I would describe as a cross between willy nelson and fred durst. EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHHHHHH (the E sound in THE). He gets my undivided attention. What he does next I cannot explain in words but let's just say this was a long and very comical song. A cross between a chant, clearing your throat and hocking a lugee. The best part is that he really can't sing and the gain on his mic is too high causing it to clip. The wierdest part is that the whole time he's doing this he's staring right at me. I'm not laughing or anything, but it was at this moment I decide to write this email. I smiled, winked at him and gave him a thumbs up as well.
I leave.
11/1/07
Voicemail
When I'm on the phone at work I always lean way back on my chair. I also sit on the points of my feet (I don't know why I do this) The problem is when I wear the boots I'm wearing today, they are long enough to trip the recline paddle on my chair causing my upper torso to free fall towards the floor, scaring the living shit out of me. It also makes a loud noise, since the paddle is not fully tripped and all my weight is on the chair. Now This only seems to happen when I'm leaving a voicemail. So it goes sorta like this:
"Hello this is Fred, the reason I'm cal<>lwhhoaahahhhhhing iis is because I....."
At this point my normal problem of not knowing how to end a voicemail kicks in.
"Hello this is Fred, the reason I'm cal<>lwhhoaahahhhhhing iis is because I....."
At this point my normal problem of not knowing how to end a voicemail kicks in.
10/1/07
Hang 'em high
I finally have matching hangers in my closet. Every hanger is identical to the next. They look like soldiers marching. My god, is that what being happy feels like?
9/1/07
Paperwork
So basically I'm on the phone with ADP this morning trying to track down a 2nd quarter 1998 UC-927 form, right. Seems that the person who did payroll in 1998 did some shoddy filing and the report is missing. Sounds pretty boring don't it. I'm completely lost in their IVR system. Finally I get a live person. I explain my dilemma to them and she says she can't help me but she gives me a phone number I can call and transfers me over to it. Ring. Ring. Good morning WFME. I explain my situation and she says this is WFME. I explain to her how I got to her. She says this is a radio station. I say well put me on the air, someone has got to help me with this problem. She says ok. I get put on hold for about two minutes and some guy answers the phone asking me what I wanted, where I was from, and so on. I explain my story and he hangs up on me. I don't know if I made it on the air or not but this kind of shit can only happen to me.
8/3/07
Star Spangled Banner
One time I coughed up a 3inch green phlegm ball during the star spangled banner and had to keep it in my mouth till it was over. To top it off I spit it in the water fountain (which was in the class room as well) and it wouldn't go down he drain because it was so big.
8/2/07
Pledge of Allegiance
I pissed in my pants during the pledge of allegiance in the first grade.
When my teacher asked me why I did this I replied because it would have been unpatriotic to stop the star spangled banner simply because I had to relieve myself. I was punished severely and my parents were called in. It's this lack of patriotism that's destroying our country.
When my teacher asked me why I did this I replied because it would have been unpatriotic to stop the star spangled banner simply because I had to relieve myself. I was punished severely and my parents were called in. It's this lack of patriotism that's destroying our country.
8/1/07
America the Beautiful
Back in grade school we used to have the restrooms attached to the back of the class. Pretty convenient come to think of it. Well, one day I came out and everybody turned around and applauded me. I thought it was a little odd since I wasn't really doing anything special back there. Just a quick squirt.
It turns out that I was singing out loud while going, though. Either America the Beautiful or one of those other songs we sang after the pledge of allegiance. I guess they enjoyed it.
It turns out that I was singing out loud while going, though. Either America the Beautiful or one of those other songs we sang after the pledge of allegiance. I guess they enjoyed it.
7/1/07
This little piggy cried all the way home
Here are the events of the last 2 hours of my life. As usual there is no embellishment or exaggeration in any way shape or form. What I present is just the horrible, inconceivable truth that is almost everyday of my life.
So I go to the podiatrist at lunchtime.
Turns out my softball toe injury is not healing fact enough for my liking. We get to talking and he asks me to take off my shoes and socks. I make the smart ass comment “Guess which is the bad one." If my 10 toes were 10 little indians, the infected one looks like the pollution tear eyed Mary looking indian from the 70'scommericals, you know totally out of place on a highway. Well, not to be outdone he quips "Is it this one" and proceeds to squeeze the toe real hard.
Well after they peel me off the ceiling and calm the other patients down who got nervous from my 8 year old girl scream he pulls out a turkey baster..no wait it's a needle. Now this is where things get interesting. He pulls out a spray can of something labeled "FREEZE CAN" and sprays my foot with it. WHAT THE F#@%? Have you ever dipped your toe into ice water?
Welcome to my life.
Next thing I know this SOB has the needle in my big toe and is feeling around with the needle like a cat tries to paw a ball under a couch. At this point I'm basically crying but I manage to say "If you put that in any deeper you'll come out the other end." Sure enough he points to my big toe and shows me a lump in my toe which is in fact the needle pushing the skin from the inside! WHAT THE F#@%? It's not over by a long shot. He leaves the room for about 15 minutes. I'm sitting in that room poked, prodded and squeezed as much as a porn star after a gang bang.
These are the times I ponder my life and what my true role in it is other than to suffer immeasurably.
Dr. Strangelove comes back in with a toolbox. Let me repeat that. He's got a fucking toolbox. Not a pair of tweezers, no nail clippers, and there's not a cotton swab in sight. He opens the toolbox and pulls out a wire cutter, and a pair of pliers similar to what Paul used to pull staples out of mike's hard wood floors. He goes in. Mutters "There's a lot of blood under here." I hear a squishing noise, a slight tingle in my toe and BOOM his face is covered with my big toe funkbloodgoo.
Goddammit who did I piss off to deserve this? At this point I just pass out. I come to what seems like an hour later with my toe in a sling and a lollipop in my mouth.
Right about now the Novocain is wearing off so I'm enjoying all new levels of pain. Is it wrong for a grown man to weep uncontrollably?
So I go to the podiatrist at lunchtime.
Turns out my softball toe injury is not healing fact enough for my liking. We get to talking and he asks me to take off my shoes and socks. I make the smart ass comment “Guess which is the bad one." If my 10 toes were 10 little indians, the infected one looks like the pollution tear eyed Mary looking indian from the 70'scommericals, you know totally out of place on a highway. Well, not to be outdone he quips "Is it this one" and proceeds to squeeze the toe real hard.
Well after they peel me off the ceiling and calm the other patients down who got nervous from my 8 year old girl scream he pulls out a turkey baster..no wait it's a needle. Now this is where things get interesting. He pulls out a spray can of something labeled "FREEZE CAN" and sprays my foot with it. WHAT THE F#@%? Have you ever dipped your toe into ice water?
Welcome to my life.
Next thing I know this SOB has the needle in my big toe and is feeling around with the needle like a cat tries to paw a ball under a couch. At this point I'm basically crying but I manage to say "If you put that in any deeper you'll come out the other end." Sure enough he points to my big toe and shows me a lump in my toe which is in fact the needle pushing the skin from the inside! WHAT THE F#@%? It's not over by a long shot. He leaves the room for about 15 minutes. I'm sitting in that room poked, prodded and squeezed as much as a porn star after a gang bang.
These are the times I ponder my life and what my true role in it is other than to suffer immeasurably.
Dr. Strangelove comes back in with a toolbox. Let me repeat that. He's got a fucking toolbox. Not a pair of tweezers, no nail clippers, and there's not a cotton swab in sight. He opens the toolbox and pulls out a wire cutter, and a pair of pliers similar to what Paul used to pull staples out of mike's hard wood floors. He goes in. Mutters "There's a lot of blood under here." I hear a squishing noise, a slight tingle in my toe and BOOM his face is covered with my big toe funkbloodgoo.
Goddammit who did I piss off to deserve this? At this point I just pass out. I come to what seems like an hour later with my toe in a sling and a lollipop in my mouth.
Right about now the Novocain is wearing off so I'm enjoying all new levels of pain. Is it wrong for a grown man to weep uncontrollably?
6/1/07
5/7/07
Blood sucker
Did you know that storing umbilical cord blood is often not covered under insurance? But it’s worth it. Why?
Two words: Vampire Milkshakes
Yeah, that's right... when the vampire hordes come, your child will be among the first to be taken since you don't have any umbilical cord blood stored to appease them with a ritual offering of a frothy, chilled life-force beverage.
Two words: Vampire Milkshakes
Yeah, that's right... when the vampire hordes come, your child will be among the first to be taken since you don't have any umbilical cord blood stored to appease them with a ritual offering of a frothy, chilled life-force beverage.
5/6/07
Blood donor
So I just donated a pint of blood and replaced it with a pint of beer.
My fluids are once again at maximum levels.
My fluids are once again at maximum levels.
5/1/07
4/1/07
Picnic
Oh yeah, well one summer during a festive family picnic I was eating a cob of corn. Well Joey slipped on a mossy rock and fell flat on his ass. I cracked up.
Two weeks later I sneezed and a corn niblet appeared in my kerchief.
Two weeks later I sneezed and a corn niblet appeared in my kerchief.
3/1/07
Watery
In an ongoing epic chronicling my stupidity, I offer the following tome:
So I'm taking my usual 3:00pm shit. No big deal right. Guy walks into the
bathroom and I go "How do you say there?" Right? Nothing spectacular. So I go to wipe. Now a little backstory. I've had a package of pampers baby wipes in my drawer forever. I always forget to bring them into the shitter with me. Today, on this fateful shit, I did remember to bring them. Back to the present. So I wipe first with the regular toilet paper since I'm taking a Taco-Bell dump. TBD's are usually clear and very viscous unlike say a McDonald's dumper which is hard and gassy. So basically I've got a mess to clean up. I wipe white and everything's hunkydory. I reach for the pampers baby wipe and fold it up real nice. I go downtown and now I'm thinking man this is fucking cold. I keep wiping real clean and I'm thinking damn this is fucking cold and I'd swear it's getting wetter. I take a look at the wad of wipe in my hand and I realize it's become unfolded in the turmoil of being scraped against my glutei. The unfolded, unaccounted for, section had been submerged in the toilet shit water. MOTHERFUCKER, I've been wiping my ass with the god-dammed water my fucking ass-chicken-soup-mix fell into. So I drop the wipe into the toilet in disgust and grab a wad of dry toilet paper. I proceed to thoroughly sterilize my ass with a ton of toilet paper. I'm not pleased with the results so I flush this glob of paper down the toilet which proceeds to clog on me. As usual, but you already know that story. I can't wait to get home and take a shower.
So I'm taking my usual 3:00pm shit. No big deal right. Guy walks into the
bathroom and I go "How do you say there?" Right? Nothing spectacular. So I go to wipe. Now a little backstory. I've had a package of pampers baby wipes in my drawer forever. I always forget to bring them into the shitter with me. Today, on this fateful shit, I did remember to bring them. Back to the present. So I wipe first with the regular toilet paper since I'm taking a Taco-Bell dump. TBD's are usually clear and very viscous unlike say a McDonald's dumper which is hard and gassy. So basically I've got a mess to clean up. I wipe white and everything's hunkydory. I reach for the pampers baby wipe and fold it up real nice. I go downtown and now I'm thinking man this is fucking cold. I keep wiping real clean and I'm thinking damn this is fucking cold and I'd swear it's getting wetter. I take a look at the wad of wipe in my hand and I realize it's become unfolded in the turmoil of being scraped against my glutei. The unfolded, unaccounted for, section had been submerged in the toilet shit water. MOTHERFUCKER, I've been wiping my ass with the god-dammed water my fucking ass-chicken-soup-mix fell into. So I drop the wipe into the toilet in disgust and grab a wad of dry toilet paper. I proceed to thoroughly sterilize my ass with a ton of toilet paper. I'm not pleased with the results so I flush this glob of paper down the toilet which proceeds to clog on me. As usual, but you already know that story. I can't wait to get home and take a shower.
2/1/07
Zzzzzz
I'm taking a leak right. I go over to the urinal to the right because it's lower this way my wiener has more room to hang. I start peeing when all of a sudden I hear this noise coming from one of the toilets.
Could it be?
Yep, I hear someone snoring. They fell sleep on the shitter.
I bolted.
Could it be?
Yep, I hear someone snoring. They fell sleep on the shitter.
I bolted.
1/2/07
Indian juxtaposition
So last night I go to Sears to buy a new A/C. The salesman is Indian and wishes me good luck on the upcoming transaction. He offers me a handshake and comforts me by saying he's 99% sure the model I want is in stock even though it's not on the floor. Upon finding it in the stock room he congratulates me on my recent success, high fives me and says "You see buddy, now we're both happy".
and for one of the very few times in my life I was happy.
Then when he asked me for my personal information to complete the sale he congratulated me on living in Kearny and that it's a beautiful town with a wonderful Indian church in it. I've never heard of this church, but I was feeling so euphoric that I suspended disbelief and just rode the wave of good chi.
I then mentioned that my godson is half Indian, at which point the salesman grabbed my hand and put his forehead to it proclaiming that was wonderful and that he would pray for me and my godson tonight.
We ended the evening with a hug and I walked out completely satisfied with my new A/C and the sales experience.
Today I had lunch with San. He told me laughed at my optimism regarding the Mets, stole pizza from my plate, waved a fistful of $100 dollar bills in my face, and cut me off on route 23.
I find the juxtaposition of these two participants in my life fascinating.
Furthermore after last night I can now remove "Have Air Conditioner Dropped On My Head" off my list of things to do.
and for one of the very few times in my life I was happy.
Then when he asked me for my personal information to complete the sale he congratulated me on living in Kearny and that it's a beautiful town with a wonderful Indian church in it. I've never heard of this church, but I was feeling so euphoric that I suspended disbelief and just rode the wave of good chi.
I then mentioned that my godson is half Indian, at which point the salesman grabbed my hand and put his forehead to it proclaiming that was wonderful and that he would pray for me and my godson tonight.
We ended the evening with a hug and I walked out completely satisfied with my new A/C and the sales experience.
Today I had lunch with San. He told me laughed at my optimism regarding the Mets, stole pizza from my plate, waved a fistful of $100 dollar bills in my face, and cut me off on route 23.
I find the juxtaposition of these two participants in my life fascinating.
Furthermore after last night I can now remove "Have Air Conditioner Dropped On My Head" off my list of things to do.
1/1/07
Do you believe in miracles?
I shit blood red all day yesterday.
But not today.
Miraculous healing process?
Nope.
I didn't drink any red crystal light yesterday.
But not today.
Miraculous healing process?
Nope.
I didn't drink any red crystal light yesterday.
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