I Am The World's Best Co-worker!

A friend at work told me they have an addiction.

I won’t mention any names (Amy), but let me say that it is definitely NOT Amy.

And it’s as bad as crack.

Being the good friend I am, I tried to have an intervention.

First, I listened attentively as Amy she confessed the addiction.

Then, I asked Amy her questions about the addiction, to help myself better understand it.

Like…

“Are you effing serious?”

“Please tell me you’re effing kidding me?!”

“How long has thing been going on?”

“Why?”

“What happens if you don’t do it for awhile?”

“What do you get out of it?”

“Do you sit around in your underwear, eating a bag of Cheetos while doing it?”

Because I’m compassionate to others struggles.


I also tried pointing out the seriousness of the matter.

“You know that’s seriously sad, right?”

“How do you think this effects your family?”

“You NEED HELP!”

“You’re pathetic!”

Because I care when a friend is hurting and/or misguided.


I even tried making fun of the addiction.

“I used to do that too….when I was in 8th grade!”

“I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe that stuff is even still around!”


Sadly, it didn’t take.

You see, as with most addicts, Amy she can’t help herself.

Amy She can’t stop.

It’s like crack, people!

She’s like a crack ho’.

Except, in Amy her case she’s a Wamp ho’.

Yep.

She’s hooked on The People’s Court.

DVR’s it.

Watches old reruns.

Never misses an episode.

She even knows that Judge Wampner isn’t the judge anymore.

Truly sad.

But it does make me feel better about myself.

So THIS Happened Last Night....FEATURING The STICKMAN Family

Being Midwesterners, and living in Tornado Alley, we are quite used to storms. Rarely do we bat an eye, much less batten down the hatches.

Every year, from early March until about November, you keep an extra eye out for funnel shaped clouds, and an ear out for wind that howls like a train.

But rarely do you duck & cover after leaving Elementary school.

As you get older, you barely pay attention, until they say one is on the ground and headed for your house. Then you hope your friend with the basement is home. Or you get in a bathtub/interior hallway.

Honestly, Midwesterners have become complacent with thunderstorms.

Much like Californians and Earthquakes.

Or Floridians/New Orleanians and Hurricanes.

However, with all that's happened recently in Joplin, MO and Tuscaloosa, AL, we thought we might take more precautions last night when we saw THIS.

So, we gathered the kids together in an interior hallway, which we had lined with mattresses and couch cushions.

And THAT'S when the trouble began.

I shit you not (pun intended), RIGHT after this, the dog came in and farted.

We decided to take our chances with the storm at that point, and evacuated the mattress cave.

Facebooking The End Of The World!

For as much as I make fun of Facebook, it occasionally does serve a purpose.

Like when I want to make fun of the pending Apocalypse.

I need to apologize to our Lord and Savior for this next one.

He doesn't normally speak in Typos.

 Should have been "wins". Not "win". Sorry Jesus.

I was so proud of this next one, and couldn't understand why no one laughed and told me how clever I was.

Only days later did I found out why.

It was Macho Man Randy Savage that died hours before the Apocalypse.

NOT Rowdy Roddy Piper.

My wife said, "If you are going to make jokes about current events, you should probably pay more attention to them, so you actually know what you are talking about."

Thanks for the tip, wife.

And Thanks for screwing up my AWESOME joke, Dead Randy Savage.

Eventually, even my 2 yr old daughter got in on the act.

Alas. It was all for not.

Surely the Mayans won't let us down next year.

Demotivational Posters: The non-Raptured edition.

Since we're all still here following Saturday's Non-Rapture, I figured I would post some lame Demotivational Posters I made.

Facebook Is The Devil!!! Part 2...(Status Updates)

Status updates.

Why?

Do we really need to know what you are doing every second of every day?

Who do you think you are?

“Just got gas at the Quickmart. Gas rocks!”

Seriously, unless you just got gas for only $1.29 a gallon, I don’t give a fart.

“Just ran 5 miles on my treadmill. Feel the burn!”

Only 500 more miles until you lose that fat gut/ass!

Maybe then, you won’t be too embarrassed to run OUTDOORS!

 Then there’s the auto-status updates:

“Shaniqua just changed her profile pic.” or “Tommy just scored 5 billion on Wordscratch!”

They should say, “Shaniqua wants to show off a new hairstyle in hopes of attracting a man” or “Tommy needs a life or more stuff to do at work”.

And is it just me, or has the status update also become the online version of the My Kids A Honor Student bumper sticker?

“Little Timmy just hit a Grand slam in T-ball. This following his 5 touchdown performance in Flag Football last Saturday! So proud!”

It’s T-ball and flag football! They get trophies for just showing up!

Knock off the my-kids-better-than-yours routine.

“Little Jenny got all A’s on her report card!”

Good for her. Those grades will totally help distract people from her wonk eye and braces.

Unless she’s discovered a cure for cancer and the economy, STFU!

PLEASE! Can we stop with the constant status updates about useless crap?

That’s what Twitter is for.

Instead, let’s go back to using Facebook status updates for what it was meant for.

Like spreading gossip and rumors.

Excuse me, but now I have to go update my status that I am posting this blog post.

Motivational Poster

I love Motivational Posters. Or Demotivational posters. Whatever.

Regardless, I made one.

See what you think.

HA!

I kill me!

Toilet Target Practice Won't Win You A Prize!

Went into a men’s public restroom the other day and saw something unusual, even for a public restroom.

WTF?

Is that a target on the back of the seat?

Upon further inspection (but not too much further because someone had left a runny upper-decker), I discovered that it HAD TO BE some sort of target for the guys to aim at.

It was a painted black dot surrounded by two rings, one light green and one blue.

Guess the janitor got tired of cleaning up after bad aimers and made a bullseye on the seat, figuring if they fell short or missed the mark, they would still end up in the toilet.

I managed to hit the black dot, half expecting some horses to race across the wall until a bell rings.

I wanted a stuffed animal prize.

P.S. While googling "Water Pistol Fair Games", this came up.

Never seen that at the county fair before.

FACEBOOK Is The Devil!!! Part One!

Facebook is like a High School reunion that follows us around.

Seriously.

We reconnect with people we haven’t seen since High School.
(Completely forgetting the reason we lost touch in the first place wasn’t because of graduation, but because that person was a huge douche bag.)

We also get subjected to seeing how much better off everyone else is than us.

While we live paycheck to paycheck just to make ends meet, some of our classmates have travelled the world, climbed Everest, earned their doctorates or MD’s, have trophy/supermodel spouses, and boatloads of cash.

Often, we find ourselves perusing their photos, stalking their walls, or lurking around their status updates just looking for a weakness.

Just some little sliver of something to say, “Ah HA! There it is! Not so perfect now, are you?!”, thereby making ourselves feel better about ourselves.

Maybe we didn’t go to some fancy school, or even finish college.

Maybe we didn't methodically plot out our career path or life journey in 8th grade.

Maybe while you were drinking through Mom & Dad's tuition money, we were out living life in the real world.

Maybe we have a job that requires us to sit at a desk all day and pretend to work. (All while secretly plotting our fancy classmate’s destruction.)

Maybe we don’t make six figures, have nice cars, big houses, or take lush vacations.

Maybe we have a bunch of kids.

So what?!

Our life is GREAT!

We are HAPPY!

Can’t you see how F@%king happy we are?

CAN’T YOU?!?!

F@%K You, Facebook!

Arizona is God's second waiting room, staffed by Mexicans.

I recently took a trip south of the border.

Okay, so it was Arizona, but I think we can all agree that’s practically May-HEE-co.

It was a work training trip.

In the same way CIA Rendition is a all-inclusive vacation.

A week in Tucson, Arizona.

If you look at a map, Tucson is basically the butthole of Arizona.

Which, given the number of illegals that enter there, it’s as if Arizona is spending time in a Mexican prison.

No offense to Tucson, but it sucks.

Their “international” airport has one runway, and barely a terminal. I’m guessing having a puddle-jumper flight to Tijuana gives them “international” status.

I am sure there are very lovely parts of Tucson, they are just invisible. Probably buried under all that sand.

My trip involved being shuttled back and forth from the hotel to a conference center by an illegal alien, where I would be tortured by boring lectures for 8 hours, and be forced to eat spicy Tex-Mex stuff at every meal.

More than once, I wanted to shove a hot pepper in my eye.

Burritos are not a food group, people.

Everything comes in a burrito. Breakfast burritos. Burrito Omelets. Peanut Butter & Jelly Burritos.

And Guacamole is not a condiment. Everything has guacamole on it.

If you offer me guacamole syrup for my burrito pancakes one more time, I WILL deport you.

The highlight of my trip was messing with the shuttle van driver, Juan.

Day 3

Me: “Hey Juan!”
Juan: “Hola, Senor Adams!”
Me: “Gonna let me drive today Juan?”
Juan: “No, no Senor. You have broken leg.”
Me: “Come on, Juan!”
Juan: *Shakes head no*
Me: “You’re just afraid if you let me drive, I’ll head south of the border and leave you over there.”
Juan: “Ha. I just cross fence again.”
Me: “I’m sure you would.”



Day 4

Me: “Hey Juan!”
Juan: “Hola, Senor Adams!”
Me: "Call me El Conquistador!"
Juan: "Si!"
Me: “Juan! Show me your greencard!”
Juan: “Ha! I don’t carry it with me.”
Me: “You mean you don’t have one. Show me a drivers license then.”
Juan: “Why you ask this?”
Me: “I’m a natural born American! It’s my right to. And the LAW. Says so in the Constitution of Independence!”
Juan: “You es muy loco.”