Wednesday, October 8, 2008

An Incomplete Guide to Relationships

There are a number of complexities we deal with through the daily drama of life. The biggest of these are relationships with others. To make this easier for you fellows less omnipotent than myself, I have jotted down some of my thoughts and experiences with relationships.

I'll start by talking about women: ?
I think that that that single character, ?, summarizes what I know about women in a way that is both astonishingly brief and surprisingly accurate. I doubt that any man understands women. I often doubt that any woman understands them either. They just pretend. Unfortunately guys aren't quite so good at faking it and can't tell when a woman is. (I'm proud of myself for how smoothly I integrated that particular unfair sexual reference.) I mean, come on! What's with their big facination with shoes? It's not that long of a walk between the bedroom and the kitchen. Having established already that I know nothing about women, I shall proceed to ramble on about them anyway in my normal fashion tempered with ignorance. Women focus on all of the most unimortant things possible. Like passing up the perfect guy for her to instead date the recently-released-from-prison bike-riding, tattooed, puppy-kicking bad boy--and then proceed to attempt to unsuccessfully change him into the man that she just passed up at the beginning of this abnormally lengthy sentence. Of course we can't forget their constant insistence on insider trading. Which gets them sent to jail. And know what? None of these women do anything that will help them in post-apocalyptic Earth, which will be obviously inevitable after a rampaging virus turns he majority of the population into zombies. Come on, are you going to beat a zombie to death with a scrapbook? Or shame it into submission by making a better flower arrangement than it could ever hope to sculpt?

Now I shall speak of men: I think that husbands are like clothing. If you're going to spend money on them, then you need to shop around, occasionally trying them on in a private room to make sure they look good and everything fits and is the right...length.
Women tend to wonder why all of the perfect men for them are gay--while gays wonder why all the perfect men for them are on magazine covers. That's the problem with all of my exes: They're gay. The problem with gays is that they should be kicked. In the face. Especially my exes. Marriage is awesome, but not for everyone. Especially my exes. Dying lonely and miserable from an extended illness is more for them. Luckily for me they are gay and so they can't get married before me. HAH! (I'm not bitter. Really. Believe me. My bitterness level is not OVER 9000!)

One of my exes is the type of person that still believes the outdated mantra that "The Customer is Always Right." We have since evolved and casually come to understand the much harder truth: Customers are rarely correct. In fact, more often than not they are blithering idiots that do a disservice to society by procreating. And it kinda makes me wonder why they do it in the first place. Don't be a fool, wrap your tool. Use a wrapper before you attack her. If you think she's spunky, cover your monkey. That's what Brian Boitano'd do. Seriously, people seem to have a bad habit of popping out more babies than they can afford. It seems like a foreign concept to some people, but maybe if you can't afford to feed and clothe yourself then maybe you should get a hobby other than poking your girl...

Another one of my exes is dead. That's how much he just sucked at life. Seriously.
I would have to say upon review that this all boils down to the following: Your hand is a much cheaper and fulfilling date. And they don't yell back. And you can even use them to fend off the zombies.

Quote of the Day: "It's hard to have second dates....or even first dates...when you indiscriminately hate everyone."

Friday, October 3, 2008

Breaking the Big Rule

Okay so the big rule is that people aren't supposed to write blogs about where they work and actually mention the name of the place they work. So I went up to my supervisor and just informed him that I was writing this blog and told him to just not read it. And he told me it was a bad idea. I can't mention the name of where I work. In fact, I don't even think I'm allowed to tell you that it rhymes with 'Blarget'. So I won't.
I have to mention that ever since I was little my biggest pet peeve was people leaving carts in parking spaces. And by some cruel act of divine intervention by the wrathful deity above, every job I have I somehow end up as cart attendant. Since working here my pet peeve has changed though. Now my biggest annoyance is when people talk to me. That's why I kick people. And then laugh.

Seriously though, 'Blarget' is a pretty cool place, marked by community and diversity. We have working with us people that are not black, people that are not gay, people that are not women and even people that aren't Jews! Like I said, diverse. Though occasionally there's a glitch in hiring and we hire someone who IS one of the forementioned least until the cleansing. After all, they hired me. Twice. Those fools.
But I work with some awesome people, like Mallory and Cheyenne the Would-Be Porn Star...both of whom are prettier than each other (I say nervously, trying to keep from encountering the scorn of either of them). And I like scheming and just generally being racist with Robert. There's also Heather the Mexican girl who wouldn't marry me (se blog 'Rejection'). And of course I can't forget to mention my coworker who helps me fight everyday stupidity: The Pair of Talking Breasts (we call them Lauren). Okay, I'm seriously going to get hurt for that one...

But there's definitely a lot of stupidity that we fight together. Seriously. I had this one lady who purchased sixty bucks worth of dollar items and in her astonishment she said, 'How is it at $60 already?'
'Well,' I replied, 'You've selected $60 worth of items.' She didn't believe me. So I counted them out and showed her each of the sixty things as her small daughter was getting really bored. I love to see people teaching their kids to be consumer whores as early as possible. And still she was trying to figure out the math in her head. I really need the power to veto people's right to breed. But the vengeful deity instead just keeps me pushing carts so I'm resigned to merely sharing my tales with The Pair of Talking Breasts.

I love working customer service though, mostly because I get to go through the list of recalled items. 'Blarget' sells some of the best stuff. Like the two-person bicycle that snaps in the middle and becomes a one-person-with-an-injured-friend bicycle. And the carseat that keeps the baby tightly secured...unless one gets in an accident at which point the baby transforms into a rather amusing and temporarily noisy projectile. My favorite ones however are the action figures that 'may cause intestinal perforation.' Seriously, don't ask.

I told my supervisor not to read this, so I'm sure he won't.  But just in case he does, I'm NOT the one laundering money from the company because laundering money from the company is just the kind of thing I would NOT do.  To everyone else:  Hey guys!  I found a cool new way to launder money from my employer!

Quote of the Day:  "Yo mama is so fat that when she walked outside someone said....uhhh....'That lady is too big. In fact.....ummm...she bigger than a person should reasonably be."