If Ya Gotta Go

...do you go in the handicapped bathroom?

I'll be honest: I've used the handicapped bathroom many a time. I refuse to believe that I'm the only one who has ever committed this offense. But I actually get cockeyed looks for even DARING to violate the sanctity of what really amounts to an oversized, public restroom stall.

And just to avoid any misunderstanding, I am not making fun of disabled people. I just think that handicapped stalls should work the same way as Priority Seating on the Metro: use this seat, unless.

But you know what really does honk me off? Those massive, shopping compounds with 3,000 handicapped spaces. Every parking spot within 8 miles of the mall is roped off for disabled people. Again, I understand the need for some of these spaces. But why should I have to take a commuter bus just to get from my car to the front door??

I'm gonna get hate mail for this...

Ringling Bros.

Why do I look like a grade-A goober today?

Ever have those mornings where you walk out the front door and realize that what you're wearing is absolutely horrifying?

Seriously. I gave nary a thought to my wardrobe until I stopped to get gas. I looked down at my ensemble and said to myself, "Somebody ought to slap you."

Yet, there's no specific facet of my outfit that I can point the finger at. Just a lavendar polo-esque shirt (much like the one in my photo), some Gap khakis and those trendy, rugby-looking sneakers that everybody and their grandmother is wearing nowadays. Doesn't sound horrendous, does it? So why do I feel like the village idiot for being seen in this getup??

Oh well, it's Friday. Don't nobody give a flip.

Pet Hate

Fur-bearin' critters ain't welcome 'round these parts.

As some of you might already know, I have to move out of this godforsaken pile of bricks in three months. So I'm surfing through craigslist for new digs when I start to get really annoyed. Why? Because every outhouse, crackhouse and halfway house in the DC Metro area is suddenly sporting a no pet policy.

What is with the domesticated animal hatred? Okay, if I toted a billy goat and a water buffalo then maybe I could comprehend the concern. But what the hell kind of damage is an alley cat gonna do??

And suppose the feline in question does manage to start a meth lab in the recreation center. Isn't that what my security deposit is for?

The few places that don't fear small creatures charge a hefty pet fee. And when I say "hefty" I mean kiss-my-ass ridiculous: my current apartment demands a $400 non-refundable pet fee every year. Then they heap $25/month in "pet rent" on top of that. Does a cat get a parking space around here - what is she paying rent for??

Moral of the story: if I want a decent place to live in DC then I'm gonna have to ship Patches to the pound for the privilege.

Uh Uh, No She Didn't!!!

I wish a heifer would.

So I'm standing in the Macy's fitting room waiting to try on clothes. I'm already irritated because the place smells like dog food and every single stall is packed to the gills. What are these people trying on - straight jackets??

After ten minutes of waiting, I finally make it to the front of the line. Next thing I know, some woman saunters into the dressing room and casually parks herself right in front of me. Obviously, there's some rational explanation for this - she's looking for her cousin or she's lost her keys. I give her a few more seconds...wait, she's still standing here...??

No, a ho didn't just bust all up in the fitting room line and think I wasn't gonna say something?!!

Me: "Uh, you do realize that there's a line, right?"
Ho: *nods*
Me: "And what? You didn't think it was necessary for you to stand in it??"
Ho: "I...uh, sorry...I don't...understand...?"

Oh, so now a ho can't speak English?? My ass!!! You walked yourself into an English-speaking mall, through an English-speaking department store, right into an English-speaking dressing room. Besides, what country doesn't understand, "Take your dumb ass to the back of the line?!"

(Don't get me wrong. I am fully aware that there are many individuals in this country for whom the English language presents a challenge. But this ho? Is not one of them.)

Ho continues to fake a few more garbled responses to my increasingly irate queries, until the woman behind me decides to help "translate." A short chat revealed:

1) That the ho hadn't lost her cousin.
2) That the ho hadn't lost her car keys.
3) That the ho had lost her mind if she thought I was waiting another 20 minutes while she tried on her tacky ass frocks.

She stood there and watched as I walked into the next, open dressing room. Because she knew better.

Who Knew??

Apparently I have personality. And a blog personality at that...

Your Blogging Type is: Artistic and Passionate

You see your blog as the ultimate personal expression - and work hard to make it great. One moment you may be working on a new dramatic design for your blog and the next, you're passionately writing about your pet causes. Your blog is very important - and you're careful about who you share it with. What's Your Blog Personality?

Hollywood Heifers

C'mon, you know who I'm talking about.

Celebrities that we absolutely abhor, yet we have no idea why. I'm not talking about the typical, Hollywood harpy who's prostituted her way to the top of a marquis. I mean actresses that can almost, you know, act. Actresses with at least somewhat of an acting career under their belts. Actresses whose mere presence is so excruciating that the sight of them makes your teeth hurt.

For instance, I can't stand Andie McDowell. Don't ask me why she's the epitome of "get the hell off my TV screen" but I can't look at her. And since she's not doing much in the way of acting lately, I shouldn't have to. That is, if it weren't for all those Loreal skin care commercials. There's this one particularly damnable ad where she drones on about "Fewer wrinkles, firmer skan!"

Skank, the word is "skin." What the hell country you from???

Then there's Nicole Kidman. Granted, she doesn't incense me as much as Andie does, but can someone please explain why this woman is considered "beautiful" in any sense of the word? That broad ain't hardly hot - she looks like a frickin cockatoo.

I'm sure there are way more names to add to the Hollywood hate list but right now I'm drawing a blank.

Dammit, hussy, the word is "skin!!!"

Buenos Noches

I always have the hardest time dragging my silly self to bed when I know that's exactly where I need to be. But anyway...

Today was my last day at the gubment agency, which was pretty damn sad (peacing out your work peeps is always the hardest part). Monday is my first day at AOL and everyone I know is predicting it'll be the land of perfection. Guess that's not hard to believe, considering the bucket of retards I just finished working for.

So like I said, I'm sleepy as hell. And tomorrow is Saturday which should be the perfect day to sleep late. Instead I'll be rolling my putt-putt to the shop at the crack of dawn for a damn oil change. It's either show up early or sit in the asscrack "visitor's lounge" for five hours while they lethargically lube the whip.

All right. I'm audi.

CAN'T STAND HIM: Update

Rockin.

Yesterday the department presented me a framed copy of the award that I won for my brochure. Lots of pomp and circumstance (for us, anyway). It was all quite nice!

Only downside was that Spacely was on his yearly sabbatical so I couldn't watch him chow down on a heaping, hot plate of crow.

Oh well. It was still sweet!!

Morbid Thought of the Day

Not that you asked...

But I have the world's lamest bladder. Read my Chick-Fil-A post if you don't believe me!

Say I ingest half a cup of Kool-Aid? Within 15 minutes I'll be high-tailing it to the nearest bathroom stall. It's that ridiculous.

Anyway, an expert on one of my forensics shows explained that when a person dies of suffocation their bladder involuntarily empties after death. My first thought (being the lunatic that I am) is if somebody tries to choke the mess outta me? They're gonna end up with one massive ass dry cleaning bill.

CAN'T. STAND. HIM.

My boss? Is a grade-A, straight up PUNK.

I worked on a brochure commemorating the dedication of the WWII Memorial that opened last year. I kid you not when I say that I pulled this thing out of my ass - I still don't know how we managed to get that sucker printed in time.

Then, last Thursday, I happened to read somewhere that the brochure won a design award. Three questions:

1) Who submitted it for an award?
2) Were they ever planning to tell me I'd won anything?
3) What the hell is the matter with the people I work for?

After some investigation I figure out who's at fault: frickin Spacely. He'd submitted the brochure for an award without my knowledge. The winners were announced in April which means he knew about this for three months and, for some psychotic reason, decided to sit on it. Most managers would trumpet this kind of accomplishment from the mountaintops. Spacely stuffs the plaque in his drawer and clocks out.

Frickin panty waste.

Needless to say I'm enormously enraged by now. This is exactly the level of pansy-ass behavior that has me quitting my job in the first place. I ask Spacely if I can at least get a copy of the award? At first he ignores my request; then all of a sudden he's breaking his neck to order another plaque.

Hmm, wonder if it has anything to do with the fact that I emailed his boss...?

The Stuff Nightmares are Made Of

If you've eaten recently? You'll probably be seeing that meal again very soon...

This thing was so hideous that I was compelled to steal it off of somebody else's blog. I would run from this monster in a dark alley. Who the hell went out and bought it???

Dweebs, Geeks and Frickin Weirdos

Pound for pound, the people who work in our office building have GOT to be the daffiest assortment I've ever encountered.

Our department occupies only half of the third floor in this building. The other half is inhabited by a motley crew of doofwads and nimtards. A few examples:

Aquanet - neither rain, nor sleet, nor howling wind will prevent this woman from exhausting an entire can of hairspray in the ladies room every morning. She spends at least a solid half hour in front of the vanity mirror chellaquing each strand of hair to her scalp. Only to have the final result look identical to what she walked in with. But if your look needed that much of an overhaul then wouldn't you tend to it before you unleash yourself on an unsuspecting public?

Lunch Thief - yes, some fool actually stole people's $3.47 Hungry Man entrees. No, we've never quite figured out who it was. But eventually the situation got so ridiculous that a coworker threatened to refreeze a jimmy-rigged Lean Cuisine laced with human hair and dog deposits. Not sure if they ever followed through with their threat but, since then, the thefts have kinda come to a screeching halt.

Frodo - Easily the weirdest of the bunch. This pygmy spends his entire work day wandering floors that he doesn't even work on. In fact, we're not even convinced he works in the building, so what the hell is he doing here?? Just yesterday I tried to get in our office file room only to find the door locked. I assume we'd instated a key policy...until Frodo strolls out like the party's over. No explanations. No embarrassment. Somebody lend me a clue, here.

CSI:Ho Bag

Give me a show with a carcass and I'll watch the hell out of it.

CSI:
CSI: Miami
CSI: New York
CSI: Pookie's Crib

If somebody died and somebody else is gonna find out who did it? I'm all over a mofo.

Yeah, I know a lot of folks out there are Law & Order heads. I can respect that (big ups to Jerry Orbach) but I just can't get into the show, myself. I'm cool with the "order" part - it's the "law" portion that bores the sleep outta me.

Doesn't matter anyway since everything is in reruns again. Why is there NOTHING of substance on TV in the summer?? You'd think some exec would brainstorm a grip of decent summer programming. Instead they stick you with three months of Who Wants to Be a Baby-Daddy. You're not even serious.

Guess What??

No, not chicken butt.

I got a new job! Woo hoo!!!

I'll be working as a web designer at AOL (don't hate the player, hate the game). Which means I'll have to say sayonara to my *insert government agency name here* peeps. It also means I won't be writing about Spacely, M-Do and the gang for much longer. Okay, now I'm really depressed.

Ad Ho Bag

Has anyone seen these...?

Mike's Hard Beverages - You know those ads where the bottle does all the talking? In one bbq spot he tells a cow, "Your wife was delicious." In another, he tells a softball player, "Hey Miller, I was with you girl last night and she had her hands all over me." Killing. Me.

You Bet Your Sweet... - Aspercreme has some serious gonads to have even brainstormed this ad (the elderly rheumatoid arthritis sufferers must be totally enraged). I completely ignored the thing until I realized the dude was singing, "You bet your sweet Aspecreme!" Oh, my virgin ears.

John Basedow - has got to be the fluffiest little fitness dude this side of Richard Simmons. He's got like 8,000 homemade workout videos selling right now - who on earth is buying them? I mean, have you seen this guy?? He looks all of 5'6" and probably tips the scales somewhere around 155 lbs. And he's supposed to get me cut up like Angela Bassett?? Quit flexing your twirpy torso and sell me a life insurance policy already.