At my ever decreasingly demanding job, I work in an office with a bunch of women. So naturally, to keep myself cheerful and awake, I literally have an IV drip of caffeine with me all day. However, due to budget cuts and my doctor telling me that there was too much caffeine (who knew that existed?) I was forced to resort to number two source of caffeine: Dr. Pepper.
Now, don't get me wrong, I love Dr. Pepper more than I love life itself. If my blood had to be a soda for me to live off of for the rest of my life, it would be Dr. Pepper. Dr. Pepper is the Apple to my Pie. The Communism to my China. The Ding to my Dong. The Jack to my Beanstalk.
Clearly, I love Dr. Pepper. But there is seriously something about it that is so addicting! I got one of my coworkers addicted too, from my constant enamoring of Dr. Pizzle. What's not to love though?!? Twenty three flavors of pure awesomeness?!?
Anyway, with my addiction and my coworkers addiction to the Dr., it is clear that the 23rd flavor must be meth. Or cocaine. Or Jesus. I don't really care because it's delicious!!!! In fact, I think I'll have another tomorrow!
PS. 10 points for everyone who got the innuendo! Twenty points for whoever got the outuendo!
Monday, June 27, 2011
Sunday, June 19, 2011
I Now Understand Why I Couldn't Have Pets
Growing up as a child, I often wanted a pet that was more exciting and lasted longer than my sister's suicidal goldfish. A dog or a cat or a hamster or guinea pig or iguana or llama would have sufficed. But no matter how much by brother, sister and I begged and pleaded with my parents, they just wouldn't let us have one. I still hold a small amount of resentment towards them. Basically, it's enough to take them to a really fancy nursing home when they are older, and then stick them in a cheap one, but that resentment may be gone by then...
However, after years of contemplation and soul searching (and Wendy's. Lots and lots of Wendy's) I have finally understood why we can't have pets. It's because we have had pets all along. Thinking deeply (as I often pretend to do when I zone out), I have figured out that each of my siblings and myself embody a type of house pet.
My Brother: The Dog
My brother is clearly the house dog. He is the favorite and gets what he wants by begging at the side of the dining room table. He enjoys walks and going outside. He is extremely needy and an attention whore. He makes a mess out of everything that he touches and what he doesn't make a mess out of, he breaks. He starts to pant when he gets too excited. If you leave him alone in the house, odds are he's going to pee on the carpet. He doesn't follow directions, like any "trained" dog. He whines non-stop.
Clearly, he is the dog of the family. Probably a lab...or a collie...or a tool.
My Sister: The Outdoor Cat
My sister is the outdoor cat of the family. She is gone for days at a time without any word from her and then she only comes home to eat. We all just assume that she's going to come back, or is hiding. She's been around the longest, and just when you think she's gone for good, she's back and happier than ever. She's moody. One moment, you can be best friends, and the next she is latched onto your back with her claws digging miles beneath your skin as she hisses at everyone who tries to detach her.
Me: The Indoor Cat
I am the indoor cat of the family. Whereas my brother is an attention whore and my sister gets some attention, I would much rather be left alone, curled up in a corner taking a nap. I am a loner. I like my space. However, sometimes I surprise people by being social and jumping on them. I play nicely with others until I get bored and then want another nap. I'm really good at hide and seek (like seriously...BOSS). The outdoors scare me because it's too bright and hot or cold or wet or damp or humid or polleny. I'm really good at climbing trees. I use the bathroom in a box in the corner of the laundry room. I can kill flies in midair. The usual stuff, you know.
So clearly, my life now makes sense. MIND EQUALS BLOWN!
However, after years of contemplation and soul searching (and Wendy's. Lots and lots of Wendy's) I have finally understood why we can't have pets. It's because we have had pets all along. Thinking deeply (as I often pretend to do when I zone out), I have figured out that each of my siblings and myself embody a type of house pet.
My Brother: The Dog
My brother is clearly the house dog. He is the favorite and gets what he wants by begging at the side of the dining room table. He enjoys walks and going outside. He is extremely needy and an attention whore. He makes a mess out of everything that he touches and what he doesn't make a mess out of, he breaks. He starts to pant when he gets too excited. If you leave him alone in the house, odds are he's going to pee on the carpet. He doesn't follow directions, like any "trained" dog. He whines non-stop.
Clearly, he is the dog of the family. Probably a lab...or a collie...or a tool.
My Sister: The Outdoor Cat
My sister is the outdoor cat of the family. She is gone for days at a time without any word from her and then she only comes home to eat. We all just assume that she's going to come back, or is hiding. She's been around the longest, and just when you think she's gone for good, she's back and happier than ever. She's moody. One moment, you can be best friends, and the next she is latched onto your back with her claws digging miles beneath your skin as she hisses at everyone who tries to detach her.
Me: The Indoor Cat
I am the indoor cat of the family. Whereas my brother is an attention whore and my sister gets some attention, I would much rather be left alone, curled up in a corner taking a nap. I am a loner. I like my space. However, sometimes I surprise people by being social and jumping on them. I play nicely with others until I get bored and then want another nap. I'm really good at hide and seek (like seriously...BOSS). The outdoors scare me because it's too bright and hot or cold or wet or damp or humid or polleny. I'm really good at climbing trees. I use the bathroom in a box in the corner of the laundry room. I can kill flies in midair. The usual stuff, you know.
So clearly, my life now makes sense. MIND EQUALS BLOWN!
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
I Could Never Be Rich
This past weekend, I briefly got to experience the life of a rich person, and how nice it might be, for someone who isn't me...
So I went to a birthday celebration at the lovely English Inn somewhere in the middle of Michigan...whatever. Anyway, first off, I can't be rich because everyone must think that I am too poor to be rich. As I got out of my car to the inn, an old man sitting on a random rock asked me if I was there to work at the wedding! I said "no my fellow rich man, I am here for a small social gathering up on the terrace with some good chaps." I thought for sure my cover was blown because of this random old dude. It's like he could smell the middle class oozing out of my pores.
I eventually find my party, which was difficult to do because everything was so pretty and nice, and we got up to our dining room. It was TOO FANCY! There was silverware there with forks and spoons that I didn't even know existed, such as the first course, pre-salad fork! DUB-TEE-EFF?!?!? Once that moment of panic is subdued by my slightly less middle class friend, the waiter, or butler, or maître d’ or whatever he was, passed out the menus. Now menus in middle class places are just pieces of paper...sometimes they are laminated. These were legit, leatherbound books with high quality parchment and the ink was made out of Unicorn blood or something exquisite.
So we order the five course meal, which makes me excited because I've never had an actual five course meal. Needless to say, this is when things started to go awry.
First Course
Soup. A chilled soup made with cucumber and beets that looked like somebody threw up red Popsicles in a glass bowl, and then threw a pine needle on it. Grossness in a cup. Also too, it tasted like glass and I wasn't sure if I could eat it since I don't have an appendix.
Second Course
A salad. With olive tapenade (which I made a point to pronounce Tape-Nade). And a GIANT ASS DELICIOUS CROUTON WITH GOAT CHEESE SPREAD! Anyway, I ate the crouton, but left the salad because I don't like balsamic vinegar.
Third Course
The palate cleanser. A delicious sorbet that made me feel very rich since it was the palate cleanser. I tried to mention that I was cleansing my palate the entire time I was cleansing my palate, which was being cleansed as I was eating the palate cleanser.
Fourth Course
Chicken. Nothing spectacular. Meh.
Fifth Course
Dessert. Once again. Nothing spectacular. Meh.
Which is exactly why I can't be famous! I don't like five courses! By number four, I wasn't even hungry! Give me a #2 combo from Wendy's any day of the week!!
Although, the whole having the money thing would be nice...
So I went to a birthday celebration at the lovely English Inn somewhere in the middle of Michigan...whatever. Anyway, first off, I can't be rich because everyone must think that I am too poor to be rich. As I got out of my car to the inn, an old man sitting on a random rock asked me if I was there to work at the wedding! I said "no my fellow rich man, I am here for a small social gathering up on the terrace with some good chaps." I thought for sure my cover was blown because of this random old dude. It's like he could smell the middle class oozing out of my pores.
I eventually find my party, which was difficult to do because everything was so pretty and nice, and we got up to our dining room. It was TOO FANCY! There was silverware there with forks and spoons that I didn't even know existed, such as the first course, pre-salad fork! DUB-TEE-EFF?!?!? Once that moment of panic is subdued by my slightly less middle class friend, the waiter, or butler, or maître d’ or whatever he was, passed out the menus. Now menus in middle class places are just pieces of paper...sometimes they are laminated. These were legit, leatherbound books with high quality parchment and the ink was made out of Unicorn blood or something exquisite.
So we order the five course meal, which makes me excited because I've never had an actual five course meal. Needless to say, this is when things started to go awry.
First Course
Soup. A chilled soup made with cucumber and beets that looked like somebody threw up red Popsicles in a glass bowl, and then threw a pine needle on it. Grossness in a cup. Also too, it tasted like glass and I wasn't sure if I could eat it since I don't have an appendix.
Second Course
A salad. With olive tapenade (which I made a point to pronounce Tape-Nade). And a GIANT ASS DELICIOUS CROUTON WITH GOAT CHEESE SPREAD! Anyway, I ate the crouton, but left the salad because I don't like balsamic vinegar.
Third Course
The palate cleanser. A delicious sorbet that made me feel very rich since it was the palate cleanser. I tried to mention that I was cleansing my palate the entire time I was cleansing my palate, which was being cleansed as I was eating the palate cleanser.
Fourth Course
Chicken. Nothing spectacular. Meh.
Fifth Course
Dessert. Once again. Nothing spectacular. Meh.
Which is exactly why I can't be famous! I don't like five courses! By number four, I wasn't even hungry! Give me a #2 combo from Wendy's any day of the week!!
Although, the whole having the money thing would be nice...
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