new office memo: you're not funny

Ponderous Me: Is today Wednesday?
Funny Coworker P: Yes. It used to be Tuesday but they changed it.
Me: *thinks about it for a second*
Me: *shakes head and tries not to laugh*
P: And just last night too. The bastards.

Elvis Schmelvis. I've got the number ones!

I'm number one! I'm number one!

::doing spastic banana dance::

I'm #1 at yahoo when searching for raost for old men.

Are there different types of 'raost' for different types of men? Maybe the searcher was looking for a specific recipe. One with a 'viagra spice' ingredient.

I'm #1 at google when searching for psychotic paranoia.

Uh... should I be worried about this? Heh. Heh. Heh.

I'm #1 at google when searching for rubber rain capes fetish.

I've never really thought about rubber rain capes before. But I'm thinking about them now. And I can't stop! Help! I need to buy a rubber rain cape noooooooow! Mmmmmm... rubber rain capes.


I don't know if should actually be proud about these number ones. But I'll take 'em. :)

add another mark to my side of the board

F brings in some left over chocolate cake this morning and leaves it on a table in our office. There's a piece left when Funny Man E comes in. The 'funny man' title is appropriate. He's a funny man. He's always cracking me up. E's always telling jokes, coming up with really lame one-liners, and is always ribbing (in a funny friendly way) on coworkers. His desk used to be next to my desk. And that was awesome because I'd be sure to laugh at least once a day. Then the Higher Ups moved him to an office across the hall. Something about putting all the supervisors with the supervisors and all the maintenance people with the maintenance people. Whatever! *mumble mumble organizing bastards mumble mumble*

So anyway, Funny Man E comes into this office and talks with C about something. While C looks up the something, E starts munching on the remaining piece of chocolate cake.

"This cake needs something," E says in a loud booming voice between bites (he's a bit deaf so he's almost always speaking in a loud booming voice). " You know what it needs? It needs more sugar. Or something to make it more sweet."

F says something like 'that's what the frosting is for' but E doesn't agree. "No. It's not helping. The cake needs more sugar."

Then E laughs at himself. "Look at me, coming in here and eating this cake without asking. Telling you what this cake needs." He's getting a kick out of that while he walks over to the little mini fridge.

I wait about two beats before I say, with full blown sassy attitude in my voice, "What that cake needs is for you to shuuuut uuuup."

Oh I had the guys nearly rolling on the floor with that remark! E busts up laughing, slapping a nearby desktop in glorious delight. F was laughing to, but not making such a spectacle of himself while doing so. C and P, the guy who now sits next to me, let out a synchronous "OOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHH!" P even marked his calendar with a red marker, calling it a 'red-letter' day. Seriously. I cracked them up. Point for me! Go me!

I'm far behind in the 'funny zingers' points here at work, especially with all the wannabe comedians around here. So it always gives me warm fuzzies when I can one-up the guys.

I know the above probably doesn't sound all that funny. I don't know how to write it any funnier. I guess its just one of those 'you had to be there' things. Had to know the people and the situation. But trust me. It killed!

E came back into the office a minute ago and boomingly says, "You know what this cake needs?"

Since he was waiting for it, I had to answer. "For you to shut up!"

E chuckled and went about his work.

Heh heh heh. I so funny. :)

Tuesday is Chooseday

Would you rather...

1. never look healthy OR never feel healthy?

I'd rather never look healthy. But then again, I've had a cold bug camping out in my nasal cavities for the last week or so. So I might be a little biased (i.e. confused by the snot) on the subject.

But I already gots me a man. I don't needs to be lookin' healthy. Just slutted up from time to time to remind him how pretty I am. :)

And feeling non-healthy just plain sucks. It really sucks. If you never feel better, it will totally mess with your whole state of being. And my favorite state is the great state of Happy Happy Joy Joy. So being non-healthy all the time would be a drag.

2. do a mini cheer whenever someone compliments you OR have to jump up and touch the door frame every time you go through a door?

I'd rather do a mini cheer. It might be good to let that inner cheerleader I've locked deep down inside myself (down with all my other demons) out for a breather now and then.

Because I walk through a lot of doorways. That means lots of doorframes. Lots. Mega mega lots compared to the number of compliments I receive. So the cheering thing would be less tiring.

Plus, I'm so much of a klutz that I'd probably end up hurting myself with all the jumping and doorframe slapping I'd be doing. I'd be in the hospital inside a month.

3. as a man, have hair implants that are totally obvious OR a toupee that is a bad match to your remaining hair?

Well, I'm not a man, but if I were... I'd go outside and pee on something.

No wait, that's what I'd do if I were a dog.

No wait, I'd do that if I were a man too. I'd love to be able to pee on the sly. Whenever. Wherever. Just like the Shakira song. It sounds like fun. The peeing, not the Shakira song.

Anywhoo... if I were a man, I think I'd rather have the toupee that doesn't match. Because some nice not-so-judgmental people might give me the benefit of the doubt and think 'Well, it could just be really weird hair.' I used to watch Bob Ross paint on his PBS show all the time. One time he said a viewer wrote in and told him to buy a wig that better matched his beard. Funny thing is, it wasn't a wig. That fro was all his. So maybe I could get away with people thinking my toupee doesn't look all that bad.

Totally obvious implants? Uh uh. No thanks. I think a mismatched toupee would look better. I'm thinking it would cost less as well.

4. as a woman, be totally flat chested with saucer-sized nipples OR have huge breasts with no nipples?

Ew! I don't want saucer-sized nipples! Especially if I'm flat chested. The nips would be bigger than the boobs! And that just ain't right. (No offense to any of you flat-chested-mondo-nipply readers).

I'd rather have big boobies. When I shake my money maker, what good is it to have boobies that don't move? Where's the fun in that? It's at the South Pole, that's where the fun is. And it will do you no good down there, let me tell you.

Besides, with no nipples, I wouldn't be poking out right now in this igloo office. And that's just damn annoying.

Down girls! Down! It's not playtime yet!

You know, try as I might, poking them back in does not help. So I try and warm them up with a little friction warming. That doesn't help either. Darn it.

FYI - And I Don't Mean Fuzzy Yellow Iguanas

I could mean that. But that's a different post for a different time.

I mean For Your Information. Two things of note:

1) I've enacted the titling function of the blog. I will now be stressed to come up with snappy titles. Woo!

2) Someone found this blog by doing a google search for trouser trout galactic banana. I googled the words myself and you know what I found? THIS BLOG WAS LISTED FIRST!

I'm number one! I'm number one! I'm number one!

Trouser trout galactic banana? Is this a euphemism found in sci-fi romance novels?

Stanley the manly space rogue stalked towards her. His chest muscles gleamed with sweat as the spaceship's fluorescent lighting highlighted his every manly curve. Princess Starbeam's loins quivered in anticipation. Ever since she saw him blast a hole in each one of the nasty Gorlock's three heads with his ray pistol her loins have quivered with want. Oh how she wanted him! He threw his ray pistol across the room. His pants soon followed. Princess Starbeam had full view of his throbbing trouser trout galactic banana. And what a sight it was. She...

Okay. I'll stop there before I get too carried away. :) Hmm... I guess I don't need to perform a Brainstorming Rain Dance after all. I could have rambled on and on all because of those four little words.

You Make Me Feel Like Dancing...

... Wanna Dance The Night Away

Have nothing good to write about.
Darn it.
Need blog fodder.
Am drained on ideas.

Must perform Brilliant Writing flavored Rain Dance for downpour of ideas.
But wait.
Am low on Brilliant Writing flavored Rain Dance supplies.
Must go to store and buy ice cream, pina colada mix, lunchables, elmer's glue, pink feather boa, tangerine sours altoids, pixie sticks, and 99 cent store tiara.

Until then... I will post... um... the usual. :)

You have been duly warned.

Unless you skim through this post. And miss the whole 'warning' thing. Then... er... oh well. I tried. I fulfilled my duty as Official Warning Super Girl.

And while I'm still in my Official Warning Super Girl uniform (it's so snuggly, I hate to change back into normal work clothes) let me just say this: stop what you're doing. You see that thing you're holding in your hand. Yes, that hand. Yes, that thing. Don't stick it in your mouth. Don't try and act all innocent. I know what you were about to do. But don't. You don't know where that thing's been. Unless you do. And you don't mind. Then stick away!

Oh, and don't forget to tip the bellman. He gets mighty fussy on Mondays.

Just a hardcore game playa

wow. look at that. i haven't blogged in a few days. its the new year and already i'm slacking. :) if you are reading this right now and hoping for something interesting to read, well, all i can say is tough titties said the kitty when the milk ran dry. that's all i can say because i can't think of anything else to write. and for some reason that's in my head. don't ask why. just go with the flow.

thursday i spent the day reading 'digital detectives' mystery book. its for pre-teen-ers. but i bought it anyway. because it looked fun. and i wanted to be cool like a pre-teen-er. so, okay, what you do is you read part of the book, then it directs you to their website where you log in, type in a code word, and you can play detective. digitally. with a fancy shockwave program thingy. i got to click on chairs and dust for fingerprints. i got to search through cupboards and take photographs of key evidence. when i was done, the site gave me a page number to jump to to continue reading the book. sounds like fun, eh? well, it was. up until that point. i mean, i was nancy friggin drew! i was rocking magnifying glass hard core! woo!

then the mystery game turned to suck. i read some more in the book and then it gave me another keyword. this time i had to navigate through a 'cave'. so i navigated. and nothing fucking happened! i went in circles until my 'matches' were all used up. then it said 'you suck loser. game over.' actually, i think it just said 'game over'. i might have just imagined that first part. but that's essentially what 'game over' means. game over? it can't be game over! i've still got a mystery to solve!!!

after five tries of going round and round the cave and getting no where i figured out where i needed to read next in the book and had at it. and realized i'd missed a lot! somehow some poor kid was being held in the cave! goodness! so i read some more and and am getting more into it. who's the bad guy? what's going on in the big bad house? so many questions for me, Nancy Friggin Drew, to find out!

i'm nearing the end. the book gives me another password to go on the 'net and digitally detect in a science lab. woo! 'i'm about to solve the crime!' i thinks to my nancy friggin drew self. but alas! it was not to be true! the window wouldn't load!!! i tried it several times AND IT STILL WOULDN'T FUCKING LOAD!!!!!! (can you tell i'm still upset?) grrrrrr. i spent all day reading and playing around with it to get all the way to the end and not be able to solve the crime. dammit. i could just read the end of the book. but that wouldn't be any fun. i tried loaded the page again today. still wouldn't work. piece of shit

::sigh::

that's alright. i'll go play me some playstation instead. i'm addicted to the Spyro. so addicted i'm playing it all over again. after i've already beaten the whole game once. i really need to go out and buy the next one. hmmm... wonder if i have room on my credit card for a little playstation game.... hmmm.... i hate being addicted to video games. i forget to bathe. forget to eat. forget that there are humans outside this little box i live in that i like to call an apartment. but the HB isn't around today. he's out shooting people. with paintball guns. :) hmmm... i could go buy the new Spyro game and get in a few obsessive HB-free hours of game play.

no. must resist urge. must also stop typing stupid post now. hopefully by monday all my internet playing and blogging and blog reading and email checking and etc will get back to normal. :)

until then... i think i'll research the new Spyro game. ttfn!

[edited to note: after reading reviews on amazon about the new spyro i'm not too eager to go buy the game now. which is a good thing i guess. considering i can't afford to buy it right now. i'll just have to find some other (easy) game to get obsessed over. one that's old. and therefore hopefully cheap.]