Some dude here in the office is wearing his sunglasses...indoors.

I'm finding it hard to resist the urge to choke him.

In fairness, it looks as though there is a medical explaination for this slice of ridiculousness; I saw some swelling and discoloration peeking out from around the edges of his Gucci shades.

But let's be serious -- indoors? It's a pretty mild environment here indoors, what with the climate control, carpet, and soft fluorescent lighting.

I know what you're thinking: "Dude, chill out, it's not that big of a deal", etc.

Fine, but you don't have to look at this all damn day while you're trying to do insurancey type things in a semi-professional environment:

Weezin' the juice, Bud-dy

Can anyone tell me why I, a 31 year old married man who has a real, adult job and does not partake in any illegal substances of any kind, am laughing out loud while watching Encino Man?

And before you ask: no, I have not been drinking.

When the movie came out, I was 12, so maybe it reminds me of a simpler time, when I had no cares and thought high school would be the time of my life. The story is about high schoolers, so maybe it reminds me that high school was the time of my life. Or maybe cavemen are just funny.

Either way, when compared to the special-effects-laden piles of cinematic dooky that are being over-hyped and force-fed to the almighty 18-24 market of today (read: Transformers, Avatar, etc.), it seems especially silly that "caveman goes to high school" is really all it takes to keep people entertained.

You can't say that...ever: Vol. 5

Co-worker, after receiving another pointless, buzz word-filled, corporate wide e-mail about a topic that barely relates in any meaningful way to the work we do all day: "Damn Outlook foiled my plan. I tried to add [Our CEO] to my 'blocked senders' list, and it won't let me."

Rick Perry:

Stop talking about "Fighting Washington" when your state is facing a $25 BILLION budget shortfall, you ignorant, self-righteous, asshole.

Shut the fuck up and do your job.

Thanks.

Ho. Ly. Shit.

Miss me?

Sorry I haven't been available lately.  As you may or not know, it is playoff time in the world of baseball.  That doesn't often mean much to a person from Dallas, but this year is different:  the Texas Rangers have made it to the World Series. 

I'm pretty sure this is going to prove to be a once in a lifetime occurrence, so I will be indisposed for the remainder of the season. 

I will miss you all.  But please be strong, and our time apart will be over before you know it.

You Can't Say That...Ever: Vol 4

Wife:  You do that at work?!

Me:  Hell yeah!  I don't get paid to shit at home.

Daydreamin'

As I stood in the parking lot at work this morning during a fire drill, I caught myself thinking about how I would feel if the building were actually on fire. 

And even though it was not an actual emergency, and I'm safely back in my dreary cube mindlessly working ad nauseam, I still have a smile on my face.

Dear Katy Perry,

You suck.

That is all.

Fleas Follow the Dirty

Over the weekend, C and I took a trip to see my little sister.  She lives in Austin where C and I went to school, met, and began the life-long struggle for dominance that continues to be the centerpiece of our relationship. 

We decided to rent a condo from a stranger on the internet for our stay there.  I know it sounds like a bad idea, but there are a few really good websites out there that allow owners of rental properties to post and book their places for themselves.  The end result is a nice, unique place to stay while on vacation at a very affordable price.  C and I have had a lot of luck with places like this in our travels to Mexico, Europe, Argentina, and all around the US.

Except this time, there were fleas.  LOTS of fleas.  Everywhere.  It was disturbing.  From the second we walked in the door to the time we realized what was happening and said, "Holy shit, there are fleas EVERYWHERE!  Run for your life!" and left, we each sustained about sixteen dozen flea bites.

Consequently, I probably have the plague.  So, for the foreseeable future, I will be blogging to you from quarantine. 

The CDC insists it's better this way.

To assassinate or not assassinate...that is the question

C asked, upon hearing of Preacher Glenn Beck's "Restoring Honor" non-political, let's all follow one God (or else) rally, "Why doesn't someone shoot that guy?"  The obvious answer, of course, is that Conservatives leaders, especially the most vocal and repulsive (I'm looking at you, Beck) are like the mythical Hydra: for every one you dispose of, two grow back in its place.

The conversation got me thinking, though, about the historical figures who have, and those who have not, fallen victim to the time honored tradition of assassination.  What follows is a brief summary:

Have:
- Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr.
- JFK
- RFK
- Pope John Paul II (attempted)
- Abraham Lincoln
- Julius Caesar
- Gandhi
- John Lennon
- Malcolm X

Have not:
- Hitler
- Osama bin Laden
- Henry VIII
- Paris Hilton
- Ronald Reagan (attempted)
- Fidel Castro
- Napoleon
- The Black Eyed Peas

So there you have it, Glen.  I think history has been very clear: only people who are worth a shit get assassinated.  That means you can continue to do the stupid things you do without fear of violent retaliation. 

If only the people who promote tolerance and peace could have that luxury...

Baseball is cool.

C got baseball tickets from work.  They were pretty good seats: 6th row behind home plate (see visual aid).  The game was great and the home team won on a walk off homerun in the 11th, against the Red Sox.  And then there were fireworks after the game.  And the new owner of the team lowered concession prices in the stadium.  And we had a parking pass that allowed us to park so close to the stadium that I was afraid a foul ball would land on my windshield. 

I know it sounds like I'm telling you all of this to brag, but that is just because I am.

I'm Old: Vol. 2

It has been 110 degrees outside for over a week. 

I can feel myself cooking every time I leave the comfortable confines of air conditioning.  I get to about medium rare just walking from the building to my car after work. 

It's ridiculous.  I'm going to lock myself in the refrigerator

And for those of you keeping score at home, I have now complained about the heat in the summer time; thus putting me one step closer to oldness. 

Seriously, Facebook?  You suggested I become a fan of Facebook ON FACEBOOK?!


Seriously, me? You actually did it?!

I'm Old

My back is killing me. 

Good-bye, youth.  Hello inevitable decline into crippled and invalid senility.