Archive for February, 2009

More Pfriday Pfun

Posted: February 27, 2009 in Uncategorized

As we reach the end of yet another week, let us all scream “It’s Friday, hallelujah!” On a not-so-serious note, I thought I would share with each of you something fun to do on your Friday. Or your Monday. Or really any other day of the week that involves professional correspondence with a coworker or superior.

I’m a huge fan (if you can’t tell) of freakin’ people out. I enjoy making their eyes roll at my stupidity. I personally think everyone should be this way, but perhaps they don’t know how. Here’s a sure fire way to ellicit weird looks…

Next time you have to write a work email, or anything else serious, purposely misspell words. The trick is, though, you have to leverage homophones. For the unknowing, homophones are words that sound the same, but are spelled differently. Additionally, you can add a little Latin flare to the letter to spice it up. Here’s an example:

Deer Mr. Johnson,

Eye am writing ewe this letter twoday two inform ewe that wee are knot going two bee renewing your lease at the end of the month. Are only weesh is that ewe our satisfied by the serveece we have provided over the last ate months.

The caws for this deceesion is based on the fore violations that came two lite over the last too weaks:

  • The unauthorized feesh bowl
  • The caged monkee
  • Yore malodorous feat
  • The offal dependents on potato cheaps

Wee ask that ewe vacate the premises within fourteen daze from the date of this letter. Thank ewe for your understanding and wee weesh you well in your apartment search.

Sincerely,

The Owners

Try it out. It will be fun. And it will make someone else strain their eyes.

Weed is from the earth. God put this here for me and you. Take advantage man, take advantage.
–Smokey

jbr

Thou shall not steal

Posted: February 25, 2009 in Uncategorized

Ladies and gentlemen, meet James Harris. This shining example of brilliance and common sense was recently arrested for stealing an Xbox from a couple and keeping said Xbox in the trunk of his car. Upon discovery of the stolen goods, Mr. Harris decided it would be wise to knife both the man and woman from whom he stole.
This story sounds reasonable enough from a crime perspective, but Mr. Harris failed to remember one thing. If you are going to steal from somebody, and subsequently stab them, you should probably do it outside the eyeshot of the victim’s friends.
When the police arrived to the scene of the crime, they found Mr. Harris, the stabber, lying face down in the victim’s yard. It appears that, after witnessing the stabbing of their friends, a group of people decided to give Mr. Harris a good ol’ fashioned ass-whooping, as illustrated above. So now, due to Mr. Harris’ infinite wisdom, he is not only going to jail, he is going to jail looking like a hooker roughed by her pimp.
If I could talk to Mr. Harris right now, I might be inclined to ask if he can see the error of his ways, but I suspect he can’t see much of anything right now. I just hope that he stole an Xbox 360 and not just an Xbox. I wonder if this is what God had in mind with “thou shall not steal?”

Criminals do not die by the hands of the law; they die by the hands of other men.
–George Bernard Shaw
jbr

And this is why…

Posted: February 24, 2009 in Uncategorized
…I am the leader of the pack. Thank you thumbs.

Rambunctious, rumbustious, delinquent dogs become angelic when sitting.
–Dr. Ian Dunbar

jbr

Another Open Letter

Posted: February 21, 2009 in Uncategorized

Dear pet owners in my neighborhood,

I am writing you this letter today in hopes of finding a cure for what ails me. Before I get started, let me express my appreciation for your pet owner status. I too am a proud pet owner and treat my pets like they are my children. While I do not have any children of the two-legged variety, I firmly believe that many four-legged children are probably, in many ways, better than the two-legged type. I am hoping that this fact will drive my point home to you and we can all find a peaceful resolution to this problem.

Since I do not own a cat, and since I will never own one of those vile, disgusting creatures, we will start with them first. If you own a cat, keep the cat in your house. Please do not let your little spawn of Satan wander the streets and terrorize the neighborhood. From darting out in front of my car to making all the dogs in the neighborhood go apeshit, wandering cats are an annoyance for us all. Of course, I would probably not have a problem with your uncontrollable beast wandering the neighborhood if it stayed out of my yard. Unfortunately, it does not.

Every morning I have the pleasure of hassling with my dogs as they run around the yard smelling where your cat peed. My dogs are not very fluent in the language of the cat, so when they are attempting to read this peemail each morning, it takes longer than I care to describe. Couple this with the fact that it is so cold that my nipples could cut diamonds, and it makes for one crappy way to start the day. As if that wasn’t bad enough, this invasion of my territory seems to have taken a new turn today; a turn that has left me both nauseous and irritated.

Today, I had the wonderful pleasure of cleaning up bird carcass in my backyard. Since there are no other wild animals in the neighborhood capable of scaling my fence and tearing apart a bird in the middle of my grass, I will have to assume it is your stupid orange cat. As you can imagine, a pile of feathers and various other pieces of bird in the middle of a yard tends to draw the attention of dogs. So, in addition to cleaning it up, I have had to extract pieces of bird from my dogs’ mouths. It is most unpleasant. I can only hope that the bird is not from China because I would hate to die of the bird flu.

Enough is enough. I can handle the wandering, and I can handle the peemail, but this is the last straw. Despite the fact that I am, above all else, an animal lover, I am going to go buy a pellet gun, and if I see your shitty little cat again, I’m going to put a hole in its tail.

For the rest of my neighbors, those that own dogs, know this: we don’t like to hear your dog bark ALL NIGHT LONG. Nobody in the neighborhood likes this. In fact, we despise it so much that we want to knock on your door in the middle of the night and kick you in the shins for keeping us up. Unless you live on a farm, your dog should be an indoor dog (much like cats). In case you did not know, a dog barking indoors does not bother your neighbors, but an outdoor barking dog drives us mad. And another lesson, when it is cold outside, sound travels farther. In fact, it echoes. And echoes. And echoes. And when you dog barks, guess what, all the other dogs bark. This is not a dog kennel, it’s a neighborhood.

If you are not prepared to have an indoor dog, perhaps you should not own a dog. Perhaps you should own the much quieter alpaca. The alpaca will not bark and will not send my dogs into a tissy every time I try to let them out to do their doggy business. Plus, you can harvest the alpaca fur and make elegant coats out of it. Not only will you be sparing us the drama of your annoying dog, you’ll make a little extra income in the process.

I guess what I am ultimately trying to say is that if you own a pet, treat it like a pet. While it is true that we are all fellow pet owners, we can only take so much abuse at the hands of your mistreated animals. Whether you know it or not, they are pissed off at you for leaving them outside and they are going to act out any way possible.

Thank you for you prompt attention to this matter. I am quite certain you will resolve this issue expeditiously, before you end up with a holy cat and bruised shins.

Yours truly,

A pet owner

P.S.-Stop letting your dog shit in my yard.

Cats are intended to teach us that not everything in nature has a function.
–Garrison Keillor

jbr

Don’t try this at home

Posted: February 20, 2009 in Uncategorized

Some things in life have always made me curious. From time to time you will see something on TV and you’ll think, “Wow, I’d like to try that.” Other times people will talk about occurrences that may be thought of as ‘urban legends’ and you still think to yourself, “Wow, I’d like to try that.” Last night, this happened to me.

I was watching Family Guy (best show ever, by the way) last night and the episode where the Griffins acquire super powers via nuclear waste was on. My first thought was about a movie from the early 80s called Superfuzz. Cheesily classic film along the same lines, and I swear I am the only person that has seen it. My second thought was, as Chris is lighting Peter’s fart with his newly acquired flame-throwing power, can you really light farts on fire? I have pondered this question for quite some time but never really had to urge to try it. Until last night.

I had eaten a bowl of Stagg chili that evening (best over-the-counter chili ever) and I was feeling a little gassy. This should come as no suprise to anyone as it is common knowledge that bean products+stomach=gas (another side note, beans cause excessive gas because they contain a sugar that the body cannot break down. Put that in your pipe and smoke it.) Combine my chili-eating adventure with my rekindled curiousity about lighting a fart on fire and we have a recipe for some fun times.

I waited for a good one before I tried my experiment. I had my lighter in hand and waited patiently for the right moment to arrive. As I felt the familiar bubble of the gas making its way to the exit, I lit my lighter by my bum and giggled in nervous anticipation. As the byproduct of the beans exited my behind, I saw the flame for the lighter expand with the explusion of the gas.

For about 1.5 seconds I was excited beyond belief because the experiment worked. But after that excitement passed, I had a near instantaneous revelation. I realized that I did not take into consideration that my thumb was holding the lighter too close to the flame. As a result of this oversight, I acquired a 3rd-degree burn from the combustion of this experiment on the tip of my thumb. It hurts and it stings. It is swollen and bruised. And I will sure lose about two layers of skin on the tip of my thumb, as illustrated here:


In the end, the question still remains: was the experiment worth it? Was mimicking something I saw on television worth losing two layers of thumb skin? You bet your sweet ass it was. At least I can say now that I really did light a fart on fire.

Come on baby light my fire.
–Jim Morrison

jbr

Lesson Learned

Posted: February 17, 2009 in Uncategorized

I know, three in one day might be a little much, but after what just happened to me, I couldn’t let it pass.

I don’t often drop a load at work. I prefer the private and quiet confines of home whilst loaf pinching. However, today, I felt compelled to drop the Cosbys off at the pool at work. I call this event an “emergency poopendectomy,” or EP for short.

The EP procedure went fine and as expected. Upon finishing up the procedure, I pulled my trousers back up and left the stall. About two steps out of the stall, I got a sensation of wetness on my tushy. I didn’t think anything of it originally because, well, it was a helping of soft serve and sometimes there is splashing involved. After a few more steps, I realized something was amiss. I reached back around and touched my jeans. They were a little moist. Uh-oh, I thought and proceeded quickly to the mirror.

Upon inspection in the mirror, I realized that not only were my jeans moist, they were SOAKED! Through the jeans and to the boxers. From my tailbone and over my cheeks. So soaked in fact that most people might think that I forgot my “Oops, I crapped my pants!” undies today and had to go do some cleaning of the now soiled jeans.

I walked back over to the stall and saw that the floor was covered in water; water that I had previously failed to see due to the urgent nature of the EP procedure. And, as luck would have it, and to further complicate the situation, this particular bathroom has one of those new fancy hand dryers that you stick your hands into; as opposed to, of course, the dryer that might actually point down and help me dry my soaking wet ass.

So now, my friends, I can feel my ass pruning up as we speak. I guess the lesson learned in all this is that one should not be so blinded by the urgency to drop a deuce that one misses the splashing water underfoot upon arrival into the stall. I sure hope this isn’t an omen of things to come.

Some people are so fond of bad luck the run halfway to meet it.
–Douglass William Jerrold

jbr

Extras

Posted: February 17, 2009 in Uncategorized

A couple of days ago I was wandering around through downtown, enjoying a nice early spring day and taking in the sights and sounds of winter’s temporary backseat. One of the things that I enjoy about walking around outside is the fact that I can smoke cigarettes at will. I don’t have to step outside to have a smoke because, well, I’m already outside. I also enjoy flicking my cigarette and watching it twirl end-over-end like one of those paper “footballs” that you used to make in middle school. And honestly, I kind of dig the dirty looks from non-smokers because I know that if they had some booze in-hand, they would be asking me for a cigarette.

Smoking and walking around in a public place is not without its perils though. Sometimes you can catch an old lady’s coat on fire because she doesn’t say excuse me. Sometimes you can flick your cigarette and it lands on some mulch and catches it ablaze. And sometimes you have to deal with the bummer. What is a ‘bummer’ you might ask? Well, simply put, a bummer is someone who asks anyone that has a cigarette for a cigarette because they are either too cheap or poor to buy smokes themselves, or are still a closet smoker and don’t want others to find out his or her nasty little secret.

On occasion, and particularly when you are moseying around an urban area, you run across a bum (homeless person, whatever) who is also a bummer. This person will ask you for a cigarette and may even offer you money (a quarter) for a cigarette. Normally I will provide this downtrodden soul with a smoke and will do so free of charge because, after all, I don’t have a license to sell cigarettes and I don’t need the fuzz breathing down my neck and tapping my phone lines and what not (and I’m a smoker and I know what it’s like to be jonesin‘ for a little Joe Camel action).

When you ask a person for a cigarette, there is some etiquette to doing so, even if you are going to offer up some of your hard-earned lettuce in the process. When asking for a smoke, as this gentleman found out, you do not do it as such:

“Hey, man, do you have an extra cigarette?” the homeless guy asked me.

I stopped my stride, looked at the ol‘ fellow, and pulled out my freshly opened pack of Camels to inspect the goods. “Let’s see here,” I said. “I have 18 cigarettes left in this pack. I have smoked two of them. I’m sorry man, it doesn’t look like they gave me.”

His previously vacant eyes quickly filled with bewilderment. I could almost see the rusty wheels turning, attempting to make sense of what I just said.

“What do you mean?” he replied

“Well, my friend,” I answered. “There are are only 20 cigarettes in a pack. My trusty math skills tell me that if there are 18 left, and I have smoked two of the 20 leaving 18 in the pack, that this pack of cigarettes did not come with an extra this time.”

With a confused look on his face he stared at me a bit longer. After a moment he turned and walked away, scratching his head and surely attempting to figure out the riddle that was just laid before him.

I felt bad for about two seconds after this exchange. After that two seconds passed, my feelings of guilt morphed into a feeling of victory. I stood my ground, and in the process, taught a valuable lesson about cigarette-bumming etiquette. For those of you that are wondering, if you wish to bum a smoke from me, or any other smoker, the proper terminology is not “extra.” To this day, I have not found a pack of Camels, or any other brand for that matter, that has 21 cigarettes. The proper way to ask for a cigarette could be:

“Hey, can I bum a smoke?” (you may substitute ‘cigarette’ for ‘smoke’ here)
“Hey, can I have a cigarette?” (you may substitute ‘smoke’ for ‘cigarette here)

Both of those phrases will surely earn you a free nicotine fix and keep the smoker you are bumming from sane and happy.

What I lack in decorum, I make up for in absence of tact.
–Don Williams, Jr.

jbr