I spent the night attending a lecture by Harvard theoretical physicist Lisa Randall, because that’s how I roll, yo. Some people like to get high out of their minds, I like to get high out of my mind and attend physics lectures. Just kidding, I wasn’t high. I’m not the kind of dope-fiend that finds it necessary to warp my reality in order to deal with it, unlike your ordinary house cat. (Seriously, this made me giggle my ass off like I was back in college…)

In these times of economic uncertainty, it pays to have a backup plan. Now you may think that delivering pizzas for Dominos part-time is a shitty backup plan, and you’d be right, but it beats the alternative: Being homeless. Actually, it probably doesn’t. At least when you’re homeless no one is around to hassle you or tell you what parts of your body you can or can’t stick into pizza boxes. But, hey, it provides health insurance, right? What? It doesn’t? Ok fuck this, I’m not going to try very hard to get this job… Continue reading

If you’re too young to remember the 80’s, God how I envy you. Not for your youth (although I wouldn’t mind being in my twenties again), but because you missed shit like this, the Wendy’s Hot Drink Training Video. And yes, shit like this was commonplace in the 80’s. Really. It’s no coincidence that the 80’s was when I started drinking.

Update: Fuck, it looks like Youtube is having issues with embedded videos. People are complaining everywhere. On the internet. Shocking, I know.

Update #2: I called Youtube and threatened bodily harm unless people could see the Wendy’s Hot Drinks Training Video, and now everything’s fine. You’re welcome.

Just the other day I was thinking to myself, “I haven’t gotten any unsolicited emails from random strangers lately. I wonder if I’ve scared them all away?” And then Justin Taylor came to the rescue, letting me know that not only was my web site not fulfilling its potential, but that my competitors are gaining as a result, and will soon be squabbling over who gets to strip the last quivering piece of flesh from my pathetic, non-SEO-using bones. Continue reading

Since I’ve moved into the new house, my dog Mojo spends a lot more time indoors than he used to. This is because my ex-wife is a dog-hater who used to stomp on his tail while he was sleeping. Or she didn’t like dog hair inside the house. I forget which. The point is, Mojo now growls at anyone who weighs more than 350 pounds. Continue reading

Ugh, after a full day of work, I had to race home to pick up my kids so we could attend Science Night at my six year old’s elementary school. I’d come up with an idea for a post and planned on writing it up when I got home, but there was a huge wreck on the highway, it took me 90 minutes to get home, I still had to drop off a bill at my landlord’s (because they’re supposed to pay the sewer bill, but somehow it got sent to me), raced over to Science Night, hung out, came home, dinner, bed time, blah, blah, blah fuckity-blah. I’m wiped. So let’s watch a video, one I stumbled across yesterday that made me laugh my ass off…

A couple of people inquired about the subject of Monday’s post, Mr. Patel. Specifically, they wanted to know if that was his real name, and if he was still in business. Mr. Patel seems to be in business in the sense that his incorporated company technically exists, but the listed address happens to be a residence, and Mr. Patel seems to work for a large tech company as a “Senior Manager”, by which I assume they mean “Major Buttplug”. So, yes, his business “exists”, kind of in the same way I was given a “salary”. And no, his real name isn’t Mr. Patel, and the name of his company isn’t Communication Consultants, Inc. I changed his name because of a professional wrestling fan. Really. Continue reading

Long time readers of this site will undoubtedly remember Ray LaHood, Secretary of Transportation and most definitely not the type of person that would ass-fuck coma patients. In short, while ol’ Ray was fucking around, doing nothing more than managing 58,000 employees and torturing small woodland creatures [citation needed], I was doing all the heavy lifting for him, coming up with not one, but two ideas that would revolutionize transportation as we know it: The 5-Yellow stop light, and replacing all the roads with a moving sidewalk that had bar service. Well, I am happy to report that Ray LaHood has given in to the inevitable, and will be stepping down as Secretary of Transportation, clearing the way for yours truly to claim the position. Continue reading

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

In the comment section of yesterday’s post, frequent commenter, superior human, and all around swell egg Heather asked me a question, the answer to which didn’t neatly fit into the comment section, so I am devoting today’s post to it instead. In case you don’t know Heather, she runs the excellent blog Creative Devolution and is one of the funniest, most creative and talented people I “know”. I put the word “know” in quotation marks because I haven’t met her, and well, this is the internet, and what with that whole Manti Te’o thing and all, you really can’t be too sure. Every time I become acquainted with a “woman” online, I get the nagging feeling that in reality I’m dealing with a 52 year old accountant with male pattern baldness and excessive back-hair, furtively jerking it to every one of my correspondences in front of a computer at a public library. Continue reading