If I had a more quiet typing style, or one of those stealth keyboards, I would not feel so bad about doing all this typing at work. For goodness sakes, I work at an accounting firm, and there is just not this much writing involved. I often do say that I am sending e-mails, and I am sure that seems totally plausible. Plausible like believing that Tom Cruise is not totally wacked in the brain, plausible like hearing someone at a bar say they could beat up Michael Clarke Duncan, plausible like Mini-Me's NBA dreams. So, pretty much 100% believable.
The trip to Vegas is upon us. We leave in like 8 hours. This is not the time or the place to recount this epic summer, that could happen next week sometime, assuming I survive this trip. No, really. Actually if you think about it, this Vegas trip is like the Olympics and we have merely been in intense training all summer. Brian, Paul, and myself have to be some of the favorites...for...uhhh...something. Vegas just has that vibe wherein you can sleep for four hours and drink all day and still be ready to go the next day. Then again, evidently so does Forest Park and 742 S. Lombard....wait, wait....is it possible I have fostered a Vegas like environment in my own home? I feel like I just discovered fire. That explains so much.
The moustache (or mustache...I am not really sure about which one is preferred, or that I really care...I guess like British gentlemen have moustaches, and people who watch NASCAR have mustaches, and porn stars have staches...so I guess I have a mustache, because it is more on the NASCAR level, then the classy British gentlemen or Hercule Poirot type) is once again beginning to have its effects on the things I say. Logan first noticed last summer that I was saying creepy and degrading stuff when I was growing it. Like offensive things about women, and those damn Australians. I've noticed it happening again. Which is exactly what is needed this first night in Vegas. Me, with a mustache, being incredibly creepy. Hopefully I can even creep out my friends, but that is more challenging. (although a man to man back rub, and some sweet nothings whispered in the ear could creep anyone out)
It is my pledge to try and make every situation in life funny. I have missed that mark dreadfully with this writing, but luckily I succeed a lot in everyday life. And I am done. Before I say something witty and people enjoy it.
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Sunday, August 27, 2006
That's amazing, so much love, and also so much information
This upcoming weekend should be an epic one. Not epic like the Odyssey or like anything of any real importance or not even worthy of having a once proud word like epic placed near it. Alright I am not going to lie, I am just pumped up for the fantasy football draft (which people keep referring to as "the fantasy draft", which makes it sound like some sort of fantasy involving a draft, which could really only be a fantasy where you imagine getting picked number 1, going up there in your ugly suit, and shaking hands with the commish while putting on a hat). Fantasy football offers a whole other like 15 hours of things to look at during the work week. And, it also gives me a glimpse of this whole other side I have never known about myself, where I spend hours compiling Excel spreadsheets for the league with weird statistics.
There are a few types of people in a fantasy league, and it is always best to just be the cocky winning kind and not one of the other ones.
The Idiot- This guy sucks. He doesn't even really follow football, but his lack of friends and social interaction time make him want to be in the league. You can usually convince him to do some ridiculous trade, but obviously then everyone else gets angry and it is not allowed.
The Stingy Dude- This guy is like the Billy Beane of fantasy football. He has a shoe string budget and puts together a decent team, but his lack of spending will never propel him to the top. And he complains about the money a lot.
Guy who sets lineups weeks in advance and generally does not care- Not to be confused with the idiot, this guy is like the opposite of the stingy dude. He paid for a good team, paid league fees and that nonsense, but sets his starting lineup through week 9 and does not even check to see if he won. And then you have people like Brian and me keeping track of scores on post it notes dedicatedly. (oooo I am excited)
Guy who drinks too much Beer at the Draft and Makes some ignorant trade like Shaun Alexander for Michael Vick and Lamont Jordan- Unfortunately, this was me last year. I evidently decided my second QB was not good enough and I needed fantasy dickwad Michael Vick (he is always so enticing, but never that good). Fuck me on this one.
So, this year should be phenomenal. I love football season.
The mustache for Vegas is going to be exceptionally creepy this year as I have been growing out the goatee since August 1st. It itches like none other and made someone ask the other day if I was 30. I don't really like it at all, but if I can frighten some women and children with the stache, my life is complete.
My two friends Bryce and Melissa (Melissa, who only seldom reads this) are always being all whiny about not being in the blog. I keep telling them they have to do something funny and even then randomly hope I write about it, since this shit ain't exactly planned. So, I have decided to insert their names and some adjectives into a Mad Lib.....that should make them happy.
Amusement Parks (from some Mad Libs website)
Bryce and Melissa decided to hit up Six Flags. It should be known that an amusement park is always fun to visit on a hot summerhippo vagina. Bryce really does love those hippos, which is weird since he is a human...and Melissa...let's not go there. When you get there, you can rent aLucky Charm Man and go for a swim. Rent? Steal? Abduct? Whatever works. And there are lots of smelly things to eat, since these two smell bad 95% of the time anyway, they can't tell it smells. You can start off with a hot dog ona giraffe with mustard, relish, and moose on it. And their taste in food is not exactly what I would call mouth watering. Then you can have a buttered ear of firehose with a nice grimy slice of watermelon and a big bottle of cold Bacardi 151. Yummm...what alcoholics would not love a nice cold refreshing bottle of Bacardi 151? When you are full, it's time to go on theroller coaster, which should settle your lubricant which they both were a little presumptive in applying anyways...you weirdos. Other amusement park rides are the Dodge-Em which has little negros, that you drive and run into other anal beads, this is really the ride where it is at. And they both get down like that.and the Merry-Go-Round where you can sit on a big turd and try to grab the gold paper as you ride past, which is like the hunt for the Golden Ticket in Willy Wonka gone horribly awry.
I am too funny for my own good.
There are a few types of people in a fantasy league, and it is always best to just be the cocky winning kind and not one of the other ones.
The Idiot- This guy sucks. He doesn't even really follow football, but his lack of friends and social interaction time make him want to be in the league. You can usually convince him to do some ridiculous trade, but obviously then everyone else gets angry and it is not allowed.
The Stingy Dude- This guy is like the Billy Beane of fantasy football. He has a shoe string budget and puts together a decent team, but his lack of spending will never propel him to the top. And he complains about the money a lot.
Guy who sets lineups weeks in advance and generally does not care- Not to be confused with the idiot, this guy is like the opposite of the stingy dude. He paid for a good team, paid league fees and that nonsense, but sets his starting lineup through week 9 and does not even check to see if he won. And then you have people like Brian and me keeping track of scores on post it notes dedicatedly. (oooo I am excited)
Guy who drinks too much Beer at the Draft and Makes some ignorant trade like Shaun Alexander for Michael Vick and Lamont Jordan- Unfortunately, this was me last year. I evidently decided my second QB was not good enough and I needed fantasy dickwad Michael Vick (he is always so enticing, but never that good). Fuck me on this one.
So, this year should be phenomenal. I love football season.
The mustache for Vegas is going to be exceptionally creepy this year as I have been growing out the goatee since August 1st. It itches like none other and made someone ask the other day if I was 30. I don't really like it at all, but if I can frighten some women and children with the stache, my life is complete.
My two friends Bryce and Melissa (Melissa, who only seldom reads this) are always being all whiny about not being in the blog. I keep telling them they have to do something funny and even then randomly hope I write about it, since this shit ain't exactly planned. So, I have decided to insert their names and some adjectives into a Mad Lib.....that should make them happy.
Amusement Parks (from some Mad Libs website)
Bryce and Melissa decided to hit up Six Flags. It should be known that an amusement park is always fun to visit on a hot summerhippo vagina. Bryce really does love those hippos, which is weird since he is a human...and Melissa...let's not go there. When you get there, you can rent aLucky Charm Man and go for a swim. Rent? Steal? Abduct? Whatever works. And there are lots of smelly things to eat, since these two smell bad 95% of the time anyway, they can't tell it smells. You can start off with a hot dog ona giraffe with mustard, relish, and moose on it. And their taste in food is not exactly what I would call mouth watering. Then you can have a buttered ear of firehose with a nice grimy slice of watermelon and a big bottle of cold Bacardi 151. Yummm...what alcoholics would not love a nice cold refreshing bottle of Bacardi 151? When you are full, it's time to go on theroller coaster, which should settle your lubricant which they both were a little presumptive in applying anyways...you weirdos. Other amusement park rides are the Dodge-Em which has little negros, that you drive and run into other anal beads, this is really the ride where it is at. And they both get down like that.and the Merry-Go-Round where you can sit on a big turd and try to grab the gold paper as you ride past, which is like the hunt for the Golden Ticket in Willy Wonka gone horribly awry.
I am too funny for my own good.
Friday, August 18, 2006
I plead the fif! I plead the fif! FIVE! 1,2,3,4, fiiiif!
The past two days of my life have been some sort of weird Twilight Zone episode, all the while reinforcing the idea that my friends are crazy and that Charlie Sheen could not even hang with us (or he totally could given his millions of dollars, coke habit, hooker seducing, alcoholic ways). Anywho, Wednesday night karaoke somehow turned into Brian inviting people to the after hours hotspot known in popular circles as 742 S. Lombard (or my house) and said people staying until 6am or later. Which is insane for a freaking Wednesday night. Needless to say I was a tad late for work. Then last night, the normal BBQ was going on, it was low key (although the amount of beer in the house was not, as I had purchased 18, Brian showed up with another 60, and then Logan's friends showed up with yet another 60) and then Paul showed up out of nowhere and next thing I know we are back at the bar. Once again, people return from the bar with us and this is where the shit gets Twilight Zone-esque. I went to bed at a reasonable hour, like 4am, but when I awoke at 7:30, I find Brian asleep on the couch (the second night in a row he slept at the house, which is bizarre when you consider he lives four blocks away), Paul on the floor, and Trevor talking to a girl in the front yard. How is this even possible? As Dave Prak eloquently put it, "It sounds like you are living in some sort of cross between the house in Animal House and the one in Old School." Craziness. I am half surprised Bryce didn't jump out of the bushes this morning and reveal he had been doing top secret shots of Patron in said location all evening and that "they were after him", whatever the hell that means.
On my air travel adventure last week, I had the fine opportunity to peruse one of my favorite aviation magazines, Sky Mall. (Motto: "Companies Had the Misguided Notion to Manufacture this Crap, and We are Going to Sell It To You, So Have an Airline Cocktail and Ponder What You Really Want Out of Life, Like a Miniature Statue of 8th President, Martin Van Buren") If you have never perused this publication, it is a must and I always try and imagine who they are trying to target with what products. The magazine literally has just about every useless trinket or gadget one could imagine, some stuff so useless, I wonder if the higher altitudes of flying on a plane make people believe that they actually do need their own cotton candy machine. I must admit, I have purchased something from Sky Mall, and I do always see things in there that get me inappropriately pumped up, like a wall sized Crossword Puzzle. On land, this would not fire me up, but something about being at 37,000 feet in cramped quarters with someone trying to recline their seat into my already severely lacking in space wedged in legs, while I sit profusely sweating because the one cute girl on the flight had to sit next to me and I inadvertently offended her with my coarse language two minutes into the flight, makes me live for this shit. Well...only some of it, because other products have specific target buyers, and I am just not one of them. For instance:
Ahhh, yes the classic M&M club head covers. Nothing says "I'm a zany corporate middle management type with two kinds of diabetes and an inadequate sense of humor that makes me think that these club head covers are hilarious" like some fine colorful candy inspired club head covers.
Target Market: Males aged 50-63 with chocolate addiction issues and lame ass senses of humor
Who out there, when reading The Da Vinci Code, was not like, "Shit homes, I need to get my own cryptex! I have something so secretive that I need to hide it in a device I did not previously know even existed! " Just as I thought, slow witted people from the red states who will buy this shit and then store food stamps in it.
Target Market: People who, if not named Bubba, know someone named Bubba. You know a guy like this, and he plays the seek and find on the cereal box. And does so very seriously.
Eureka! And to think my tropical hut in my yard previously lacked a roof! This tropical thatch look will complete it perfectly! Don't mind the fact that my yard is very small and lacking any tropical flavor, I need this! (answer: no you fucking don't)
Target Market: People with way too much money who for some reason desire a thatched locale in their yard.
Ask Carl Winslow, last week's popular column, actually prompted some questions from loyal reader, Sarah P. So, I fired them off to Carl and here are his responses:
Sarah wrote:
"dear officer winslow,
why are you sooo dang cool? also, what kind of shampoo do you use? and what is your favorite kind of doughnut?"
Cool is not a river in Egypt, Sarah! My wife Harriet and Grandma Winslow keep me grounded. I use Neutrogena T-Gel Shampoo as long as that wacky Steve isn't doing experiments where my hair might fall out! I love the long john doughnut. Classic, simple, delicious. Don't tell my wife though!
Random tidbit from my youth that might explain something:
Last week my Mom shared this fine tale with my older sister Eileen and myself. Evidently when I was very young, a friend of the family was watching Eileen and I while my parents were out. I was speaking random jibberish, the friend of the family was trying to understand me, and when she asked Eileen what I was saying, Eileen calmly replied "He's speaking Spanish" and went back to watching TV. I guess when my Mom was telling it the story was funnier. Oh well. Tough balls.
On my air travel adventure last week, I had the fine opportunity to peruse one of my favorite aviation magazines, Sky Mall. (Motto: "Companies Had the Misguided Notion to Manufacture this Crap, and We are Going to Sell It To You, So Have an Airline Cocktail and Ponder What You Really Want Out of Life, Like a Miniature Statue of 8th President, Martin Van Buren") If you have never perused this publication, it is a must and I always try and imagine who they are trying to target with what products. The magazine literally has just about every useless trinket or gadget one could imagine, some stuff so useless, I wonder if the higher altitudes of flying on a plane make people believe that they actually do need their own cotton candy machine. I must admit, I have purchased something from Sky Mall, and I do always see things in there that get me inappropriately pumped up, like a wall sized Crossword Puzzle. On land, this would not fire me up, but something about being at 37,000 feet in cramped quarters with someone trying to recline their seat into my already severely lacking in space wedged in legs, while I sit profusely sweating because the one cute girl on the flight had to sit next to me and I inadvertently offended her with my coarse language two minutes into the flight, makes me live for this shit. Well...only some of it, because other products have specific target buyers, and I am just not one of them. For instance:
Ahhh, yes the classic M&M club head covers. Nothing says "I'm a zany corporate middle management type with two kinds of diabetes and an inadequate sense of humor that makes me think that these club head covers are hilarious" like some fine colorful candy inspired club head covers.Target Market: Males aged 50-63 with chocolate addiction issues and lame ass senses of humor
Who out there, when reading The Da Vinci Code, was not like, "Shit homes, I need to get my own cryptex! I have something so secretive that I need to hide it in a device I did not previously know even existed! " Just as I thought, slow witted people from the red states who will buy this shit and then store food stamps in it.
Target Market: People who, if not named Bubba, know someone named Bubba. You know a guy like this, and he plays the seek and find on the cereal box. And does so very seriously.
Eureka! And to think my tropical hut in my yard previously lacked a roof! This tropical thatch look will complete it perfectly! Don't mind the fact that my yard is very small and lacking any tropical flavor, I need this! (answer: no you fucking don't)
Target Market: People with way too much money who for some reason desire a thatched locale in their yard.
Ask Carl Winslow, last week's popular column, actually prompted some questions from loyal reader, Sarah P. So, I fired them off to Carl and here are his responses:
Sarah wrote:
"dear officer winslow,
why are you sooo dang cool? also, what kind of shampoo do you use? and what is your favorite kind of doughnut?"
Cool is not a river in Egypt, Sarah! My wife Harriet and Grandma Winslow keep me grounded. I use Neutrogena T-Gel Shampoo as long as that wacky Steve isn't doing experiments where my hair might fall out! I love the long john doughnut. Classic, simple, delicious. Don't tell my wife though!
Random tidbit from my youth that might explain something:
Last week my Mom shared this fine tale with my older sister Eileen and myself. Evidently when I was very young, a friend of the family was watching Eileen and I while my parents were out. I was speaking random jibberish, the friend of the family was trying to understand me, and when she asked Eileen what I was saying, Eileen calmly replied "He's speaking Spanish" and went back to watching TV. I guess when my Mom was telling it the story was funnier. Oh well. Tough balls.
Sunday, August 13, 2006
I used to rock the flying toasters...on the real
I am not really too sure why when people I have just met find out I toil at an accounting firm, they are always shocked. "But you are so fun," or "But you drink SO much," or "Why are you capable of staying out so late on weeknights?" and the occasional "That was very presumptive if you, you are lucky you are not homeless and unemployed as I originally thought." I seriously do wonder what these people had thought I did with my life. Seriously, if you were to see some of the surprised looks you would feel the same way. (these looks feel like I have just told people that I am in fact a hemaphrodite, and don't feel bad about enjoying the lapdance....except minus like three levels of surprise). True, if the tables were turned and I had to figure out what I did based on say, a Wednesday night escapade, my guesses would include things like: professional drinker, rich kid living off of daddy's dime, hobo or even something really awesome like mall security guard. So, basically no one of any importance to anyone else in the corporate world, which I some how am (but let's not stretch this too much, I am not that important as my company will discover when I leave them). But, a quick analysis of the external factors might help to figure out this accountant shock (which, in all fairness, I guess I am only employed by a company that happens to do accounting, not that I am anything close to an accountant. For God's ((respect)) sake, one of my big "project's" at one point in time this year was making thousands of copies for an audit because my boss wanted to make more money. I would have thrown it in his face, and refused to make copies if it were not the most work I had done in a long, long time.)
So, external factors:(mainly Wednesday night, and if only Wednesday night, ONLY this summer)
-Drunkardly
-Usually dressed in a humorous t-shirt (or a Polo if I feel, as Trevor would say, "elegant")
-Carousing with many other fun loving people and from time to time trying to be funny and the center of attention. Awww hell, I am always trying to be funny. It has really started to interfere with my life, like in situations where people want seriousness, like at the bank ("Sir, do you have your deposit slip?" "No, (shuffles through pockets) this is really a hold up!" (shot with taser by bank teller) "I was just kidding, I was just kidding!")
-Usually perform some awful karaoke.
-Have done many pushups in a bar
With all these factors in mind, can't I be what I am (wow, that was deep), a young recent college grad who works as a pointless corporate monkey and has mucho fun with his friends? I guess having misled several people previously and informing them that I had worked in such professions as professional hopscotch player, muse, ornithologist, or nail salon owner, I don't have that much room to complain. (By the way, all of these professions are excellent conversation starters, but ESPECIALLY muse and ornithologist. Most people don't know what a muse is, and if they do, they have questions about how someone can be employed in such a manner. As for ornithologist (a bird expert) this works best in an outdoor setting so that you can act extremely enthusiastic about any bird that flies by. Just trust me on this one)
Airport travel was supposed to be getting more secure and safer and stuff, right? Yet the other day on my fine Air-Tran flight (which only made me think of Air "I plead da fif" Tron Airlines) when I was checking in, the only reason I ended up showing my ID was because I was already prepared to do so and had thrust my ID in the worker's face, thus prompting her to ask "Oh yeah, your ID". Not that I am one of those pansies that is afraid of terrorism (yay my blog was just "discovered" by several federal agencies...hooray!). In fact, I would love to see one of those guys try to hijack a plane I am on....you want some inappropriate anger? You can bet they would be scared of the angry 6'4" guy coming at them when they are armed with a knitting needle and toenail clippers. Please don't let me read about "beefed-up security", "better employees" or "friendlier homeless people" when it seems I could have just waltzed in. But, I do look quite friendly. I guess my extremely friendly appearance always helps.
And now for the first ever As Carl Winslow. Carl Winslow was the black cop Dad everyone yearned to have next door in the early 90's (especially if you were a dorky black science geek in love with neighbor's daughter). Now, you too can ask for advice.
Dear Officer Winslow,
I have been having an ant problem in my kitchen, please help!!!!
-Annoyed in AZ
Laura!!!!! Did Steve have anything to do with this? For such a smart kid he sure does screw up a lot! Harriet! What are we going to do to fix this before the commisioner gets here? In all my years on the force, I've never dealt with anything like this.
Dear Carl,
I think my wife is cheating on me with the janitor at her office, which makes it doubly insulting.....what should I do?
-Dishonored and degraded in DeKalb
Steve! I understand you just wanted to give to give everyone a Christmas display they would not forget, but now we are stuck on the roof on Christmas Eve...with no ladder! Awww....Steve.....don't cry...here, here, ok, ok I'm Santa and I'm happy.
Dear Officer Winslow,
I killed a man. This cannot be good. Not good at all.
- Killer in an undisclosed locale
Robbie, Laura, even when your Mom and I, or your grandmother get in a fight, we still love each other and we'll still always be family. No matter what. Family is all you have sometimes. Remember that.
So, external factors:(mainly Wednesday night, and if only Wednesday night, ONLY this summer)
-Drunkardly
-Usually dressed in a humorous t-shirt (or a Polo if I feel, as Trevor would say, "elegant")
-Carousing with many other fun loving people and from time to time trying to be funny and the center of attention. Awww hell, I am always trying to be funny. It has really started to interfere with my life, like in situations where people want seriousness, like at the bank ("Sir, do you have your deposit slip?" "No, (shuffles through pockets) this is really a hold up!" (shot with taser by bank teller) "I was just kidding, I was just kidding!")
-Usually perform some awful karaoke.
-Have done many pushups in a bar
With all these factors in mind, can't I be what I am (wow, that was deep), a young recent college grad who works as a pointless corporate monkey and has mucho fun with his friends? I guess having misled several people previously and informing them that I had worked in such professions as professional hopscotch player, muse, ornithologist, or nail salon owner, I don't have that much room to complain. (By the way, all of these professions are excellent conversation starters, but ESPECIALLY muse and ornithologist. Most people don't know what a muse is, and if they do, they have questions about how someone can be employed in such a manner. As for ornithologist (a bird expert) this works best in an outdoor setting so that you can act extremely enthusiastic about any bird that flies by. Just trust me on this one)
Airport travel was supposed to be getting more secure and safer and stuff, right? Yet the other day on my fine Air-Tran flight (which only made me think of Air "I plead da fif" Tron Airlines) when I was checking in, the only reason I ended up showing my ID was because I was already prepared to do so and had thrust my ID in the worker's face, thus prompting her to ask "Oh yeah, your ID". Not that I am one of those pansies that is afraid of terrorism (yay my blog was just "discovered" by several federal agencies...hooray!). In fact, I would love to see one of those guys try to hijack a plane I am on....you want some inappropriate anger? You can bet they would be scared of the angry 6'4" guy coming at them when they are armed with a knitting needle and toenail clippers. Please don't let me read about "beefed-up security", "better employees" or "friendlier homeless people" when it seems I could have just waltzed in. But, I do look quite friendly. I guess my extremely friendly appearance always helps.
And now for the first ever As Carl Winslow. Carl Winslow was the black cop Dad everyone yearned to have next door in the early 90's (especially if you were a dorky black science geek in love with neighbor's daughter). Now, you too can ask for advice.
Dear Officer Winslow,
I have been having an ant problem in my kitchen, please help!!!!
-Annoyed in AZ
Laura!!!!! Did Steve have anything to do with this? For such a smart kid he sure does screw up a lot! Harriet! What are we going to do to fix this before the commisioner gets here? In all my years on the force, I've never dealt with anything like this.
Dear Carl,
I think my wife is cheating on me with the janitor at her office, which makes it doubly insulting.....what should I do?
-Dishonored and degraded in DeKalb
Steve! I understand you just wanted to give to give everyone a Christmas display they would not forget, but now we are stuck on the roof on Christmas Eve...with no ladder! Awww....Steve.....don't cry...here, here, ok, ok I'm Santa and I'm happy.
Dear Officer Winslow,
I killed a man. This cannot be good. Not good at all.
- Killer in an undisclosed locale
Robbie, Laura, even when your Mom and I, or your grandmother get in a fight, we still love each other and we'll still always be family. No matter what. Family is all you have sometimes. Remember that.
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