I’ve had my fair share of jobs over the years, and have had my fair share of reasons for leaving these jobs. In high school I quit my job working at a grocery store because they asked me to work the overnight shift. I didn’t show up for my second day on the job at a plastic molding plant because the job was somehow more boring than sitting still and doing nothing. I made a few bucks in college mowing a professor’s lawn, but he let me go because I didn’t have a home phone (my roommate had jacked up the bill and then bailed) and he couldn’t call me in the event of a lawn emergency. I’ve been laid off numerous times, quit my job twice because I moved, and most recently quit a job I’d had for almost a dozen years because management started offshoring everything to Shanghai. The most entertaining reason I’ve had for leaving a job has to be the time I lost my job because of a sexual harassment complaint involving a high school girl. Continue reading

Fucking scientists. They think they’re so goddamn smart. You can be sitting there, minding your own business, when all of a sudden a scientist will come out of nowhere and start ragging on you about how you shouldn’t drink seawater. Assholes. But I know how to deal with those pointy-headed fuckers now. If a scientist ever gives you shit, just ask him to explain the Measurement Problem. Continue reading

In the fall of 1987, I was an incoming freshman at a Big Ten university. Like most freshmen, I moved into the dorms. Most colleges require freshmen to live in dormitories. It helps students with the acclimation process, gives them access to resources that would otherwise be more difficult to come by, and gives school administrators an opportunity to feel good about themselves by showing short films on how bad it is to catch the herp. Continue reading

I had lived in the same house for almost thirteen years before moving late last year, so getting used to the new place is taking a while. I’m not at the point where I can navigate in the dark by muscle memory alone, it takes me a split second to recognize the new door bell sound, and sometimes, driving home at the end of a long day, I’ll look around my new neighborhood and think to myself, “Where the fuck am I?” But at least I don’t whip out my dick and piss all over the place when someone comes over. Continue reading

I was driving home today when it struck me that the cars we drive these days are fucking lame. Not mine, of course. I drive a Jeep Wrangler, which is macho, and studly, and boy don’t I look like a motherfucking wildman with two child seats in the back of mine? But most of the other cars on the road suck in my eyes. This is because I was alive during the 70’s, which although it brought us terrible things such as leisure suits, disco, and Kenny Loggins (ahem), it also brought us great things such as Led Zeppelin, the original Saturday Night Live, and muscle cars. Continue reading

For a guy who used to party as heartily as I did, I’ve spent a surprisingly small amount of time in a courtroom. This is a good thing. Judges are notoriously intolerant of the type of things that I used to engage in as a matter of policy. I’m willing to place bets that you’ll never find the phrase, “The court will let the defendant finish his whippet before testifying” in the court record of any case, ever. So I do my best to stay out of trouble, and have been very successful in this regard with the exception of a license plate violation and the time I got evicted from the Mother of all Party Houses when I was in college. Continue reading

The other day I asked my six year old what he wanted to be when he grew up. Parents love asking their kids this question because kids are fucking morons and when you ask them this question, they’ll invariably say something stupid like “I want to be Darth Vader!” and then you don’t feel so bad about your job which may be demeaning and doesn’t pay you nearly enough, but at least your boss doesn’t choke you from across the room. “I want to be the guy that sells hot dogs at baseball games,” answered my son. See what I mean? Continue reading

I had planned to use the first post of the new year to crown a winner of the Dick Loggins Contest in which one lucky reader would be rewarded for illustrating a penis dressed up as Kenny Loggins with something from the Official Dogs On Drugs Giant Bookcase of Crazy Shit, but that plan was thwarted by my six year old who took it upon himself to ring in the new year by swallowing a ball bearing. (If you’re new to this site and find yourself wondering about that contest, yes, it is a real contest, and no, I haven’t taken my meds in quite a while.) Continue reading

I looked at the weather forecast at work today and damn near fell out of my chair (from surprise, not drunkenness). We’ve got a 70% chance of precipitation tonight with a low of 32 degrees Fahrenheit. For those of you with brain damage (or on the metric system) that means one thing: Snow! Of course some of you are no doubt sick and fucking tired of snow (I’m looking at you, Buffalo!), but down here in Phoenix snow is rare enough that we enjoy it, especially since we don’t have to shovel it, remove it from our rooftops before it crushes us, or dig through it to find the frozen carcasses of loved ones. Continue reading

My two sons, four and six, like to wake up early. And by early, I mean they wake up at hours that I haven’t experienced since I was in college, and even then I only saw them through the bottom of a bottle. It’s not unheard of for them to wake up at 2:15 AM and loudly begin having Maximum Fun before storming into my room to demand that I allow them to go outside to play. This is what is known in parenting circles as bullshit. After a brief showdown during which I may or may not threaten to have Santa’s hands and feet cut off, my boys will settle down for upwards of thirty minutes before starting the process all over again. I could club retarded baby seals for a living and still make Santa’s Nice List just based on the fact that I haven’t once put my sons in leg irons (although I have frequently considered it). Continue reading