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Saturday, January 28, 2012

Greg reaches new high in being LOW!

Just when you thought Shady Greg could get no lower than the dungeon depths of sewer-y shit shoveling suck-y-ness he has inhabited for the past two decades of slithering snake-y-ness; he sinks even lower! Not only has the Shady One freely flat out admitted to enjoying his backstabbing. He has sunk to the despicable depths of selling in electronics, paint, tools and amazingly enough for a diet breaking cookie crunching jiggling jug of junk food, but has even sold in fitness. Greg will sell in any commission department never minding lack of knowledge (which has never stopped him in his own department!). No qualms in saying anything, no matter how shifty, simply to make a sale. When Shady Greg holed up in the fitness department, ringing up other peoples hard earned sales for himself, he began eating a chewy chocolaty carmel-y crunchy crumbling Costco cookie congratulating customers cockily for being lovable lards of lonely laziness. This from the man who made the Guinness Book for owning the most pasty blindingly white whale of a stomach outside of Ireland's biggest albino booze hound!

Friday, January 27, 2012


   Zerks did not enjoy making love to his robot. Don't misunderstand, the robot was a great robot, just not a great lover. It lubed up nicely but that was about it. He hated the fact that the robot faked EVERY orgasm, not just once in a while. He hated the fact that the robot was not one of those sleek new models. Zerks  robot was rather rotund around the middle and clanked all about the place. He hated that the robot was constantly beeping with stupid little lights flashing. Zerks never found beeping little lights romantic in the least. He hated that he and the robot did not have much in common other than they both loved computers. To be clear, Zerks loved having a computer, the robot was literally in love with a computer ( the robot had even snuck away with a computer for a private weekend later telling Zerks the computer meant nothing to him.) But the biggest problem, by far, was that the robot would not even try Zerks homemade lasagna. That was simply too insulting. Like motor oil could ever beat homemade lasgna.

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Willard conjures the courage to order a pizza (almost)

Willard is 5' 7" 178 pounds with a clamish complexion and high forehead. He wears small black walking shoes with his pale khakis . His tan Polo's are always pressed and the graying ring of hair that wraps from one large ear to another is rarely combed but always short. Willard fears change the way Bigfoot fears credible witnesses. His routine is set in stone and it NEVER varies. Every single night Willard eats either a chicken or a beef Spartan pot pie for dinner with a glass of 2% milk that was poured exactly 20 minutes before it it can be touched so that is does not freeze his throat on the way down. Willard is exceptionally single.
   One extraordinary Tuesday Willard woke up with a feeling of bravado that he had never experienced before. He showered that morning with extra vigor even keeping his eyes open when he soaped the forbidden area and did not grind his teeth at all. He actually strolled to work, thinking to himself " Holy Tipping Cow! I am actually, factually strolling! Hot Diggity Deputy Dawg!". Had Willard's day ended there it would have all ready been one for the history books. End it did not. No! Willard's day of awesomeness continued along with one thrilling accomplishment after another until Willard was giddy with unknown self confidence. He did his noon crossword in pen.
   As Willard walked home ( strolling at this point would only be showing off ) he thought about the drawer in the credenza. He hated even being near the drawer because he'd swear he could feel it's contents mocking him. Daring him. Taunting him. Willard felt that this night all that would change. Willard felt that this extraordinary day could only be capped by an extraordinary night. That meant tonight Willard would boldly stroll (Yes Stroll!) up to the feared drawer in his creepy credenza and face the contents without fear. Well some fear but still he'd face up to it!
   Willard did stroll up to his feared credenza drawer. Willard did retrieve it's contents with a trembling hand and a very small butterfly (more a sick moth than anything) in his stomach. For you see what the drawer contained was an old and wrinkled take out/delivery menu from Tony the Wops Dago Dungeon and Pizza Parlor (name brand suits sold at 70% off in back). Willard took the menu to his favorite old brown La-Z-Boy and sat slowly, taking deep breaths to calm himself and mentally prepared to open the menu. All of a sudden, with a sweeping motion and extra flourish, Willard opened the mocking menu! PEPPERONI! SAUSAGE! HAM! BACON! MUSHROOMS! ONIONS! PEPPERS! On and on toppings charged at Willards' eyes as crust choice after crust choice hammered his sloth like brain- THIN CRUST! SICCILLIAN! REGULAR! ROUND! SQUARE! FOUR CORNER! Willard slammed the menu on his circular end table, closed his eyes, and thought about prime numbers until his pulse returned to normal.

      This is not finished yet

Monday, January 23, 2012


Marcy is probably one of the sweetest people to ever inhabit this planet. She is always polite, patient and charming. If you ever met Marcy chances are you liked her. Marcy needed a new dishwasher. She entered Kitchens and More and unfortunately she got Shady Greg as her salesman. Marcy said to Greg " I need a new dishwasher." Greg replied "Good for you". Marcy asked if Greg would please help her in selecting a new dishwasher. Greg asked Marcy " Are you buying it today babydoll or are you all stroke with no finish?". Marcy gasped and stammered out that she would like one today seeing as how her old one no longer worked. Shady Greg rolled his toothpick around his mouth and said " I'm guessing that with a caboose like yours the engine room goes through a lot of fuel. Don't take that the wrong way, babydoll , the caboose is always my favorite for a ride." Marcy thought perhaps she was having a nightmare. She wasn't. Marcy had merely come to Kitchens and More during Shady Greg's identity crisis. For Shady Greg did not think of himself as Greg. No. He thought of himself as Bitch Magnet. And Bitch Magnet could do no wrong with a lady (in his mind anyway).  Bitch Magnet asked Marcy what sort of features she wanted in her new dishwasher and she responded that she wanted a quiet one that cleaned well. Bitch Magnet grinned and said "I bet you could lick'em clean". Marcy unconsciously stepped backward and said in a choked voice " That does it! You lewd, crass, disgusting excuse of a man. I want to speak to your BOSS right NOW!" Bitch Magnet grinned and looked at Marcy over the top of his smoky shades  and asked in his best Clint Eastwood voice " Are you sure, Babydoll? Are you sure you can handle meeting THE BOSS?". Marcy insisted. Bitch Magnet dropped his pants to his ankles and said "THE BOSS is sleeping little lady. How about you wake him up?". Marcy had played soccer in high school and she kicked two balls at once for a big score! For atleast a month after that Bitch Magnet was known as Grapes.

Saturday, January 21, 2012


People were up and moving. Voices carried all around. Life was running. Things were normal. Except that everything was slower, quieter, mundane and mostly redundant. The deep dark shadow of raging boredom began to rise and with it came not only the yawns but the incredibly dumb jokes and stupid behaviors of the terminally bored.
   Fred was among the bored. He told himself that he didn't mind another boring day because boring was safe. Boring was expected and meant life was sane. Not today. No this was not safe, normal boredom. This was insane raging boredom. The kind of boredom that seeps into the brain and takes over. The kind of boredom that takes a dull coward like Fred and turns him into a cross eyed giggling lunatic of shameful ignorance towards accepted social convention. And it did.
   As Fred stood rooted to the same spot in a sort of stupor, not really aware of his surroundings due to the thick, choking boredom of his day he began to make up new lyrics to old favorites. He sang these to himself and provided small inner smiles to his drifting soul. Harmless entertainment. But as the boredom grew silly new lyrics to old favorites lost some shine and Fred's mind wandered farther into distant corners where dark things sleep oh so lightly.
   What would old Sister Eunice look like naked? Naked and reverse cowboy humping a tattooed black man on a filthy sweaty bed?-"Where the Hell did that come from?" Fred thought with a shiver: instantly back in the real world. Fred's long ignored manhood quivered briefly. Fred, scared silly by the quiver and what it might mean , announced to no one in particular " I must need the bathroom. Yes. Yes. I have to pee!". Fred then walked as quickly as his dishonarable semi-erect unit would allow. Upon his arrival to the sink he splashed cold water on his face and thought that it was all just a horrible daydream. It was over and Fred promised himself he would never think of old Sister Eunice again unless it purely reverential. Fred walked back to his same spot on the sales floor and quickly fell back into that same, damn near drooling stupor.
   The deep dark shadow of raging boredom smiled and savored the moment before its next strike.

Friday, January 20, 2012


Little Billy Devlin the cute and precocious seven year old boy from down the block may not die after all. Billy, as most of you know, has been in critical condition ever since he choked on a handful of popcorn which led to his falling on a chewy dog toy which lodged in his spleen. Sadly, the chewy dog toy belonged to Biscuit, a beautiful little pug who had died two years previously. Billy had kept the saliva ravaged chew toy for sentimental reasons probably because he felt partly responsible for Biscuits' untimely death. Billy, in a moment of reckless abandon and childish humor, accidentally blew up Biscuit in the microwave (27 minutes on high defrost is all it took).
 Anyhow, the good doctors at Providence Irrelevant are reporting wonderful progress on Billys' recovery. Only last week Billy was still blue and non-responsive. This week Billy is off white and non-responsive! Way to go Billy.
 Of course this is not the first time little Billy has choked on popcorn. Three years ago Billy choked to death on a handful of jiffy pop. This time he did not die but he could have! Jeffery Rotzenheimer President of P.A.P.A. (parents against popcorn abuse) has said that over seven thousand little Billy Devlins' die from popcorn each year. Oddly enough most William Devlin's are unaffected unless caramel corn is involved.

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

Greg and the Horseless Barbarian

It should be noted to all my faithful readers that Shady Greg is not exactly a lone wolf when it comes to screwing over customers and co-workers. No. No. Greg is frequently cavorting with the Horseless Barbarian. The Horseless Barbarian is an extremely shifty mumbling mother of mixed mutt heritage who believes in nothing more than squeezing pennies out of nickels- in plainer speak he is a cheap ass liar who would trample a baby for a dollar. He and Greg are best friends of course. The two of them have hatched more evil plans than a deranged shark and a rabid killer whale... how about more evil plans than Darth Vader and a rabid Chewbacca... fuck it! They are two evil brothers born of different Hell Dogs. The Horseless Barbarian likes to come at customers with an almost perverted sense of blood lust for their wallet "Here you stupid American you buy this from me so my children don't die of malnourishment and scurvy you arrogant Yankee bastard raised by cocky pig farming parents of questionable morals"-At least that's the feeling if not the words. Where Shady Greg is more of a Southern Gentleman without the southern or the gentleman if you know what I mean. Hence the title Shady. Together Greg and Barbie (The Horseless Barbarian) will prey on the weak and the old in a disgusting tag team of twisted truths and scary lies convincing the gullible that it was not sudden infant death syndrome that tragically stole their granddaughter but not having a PROTECTION PLAN on the freaking refrigerator that killed sweet little Sally Anne! SICK SICK DICKS OF DASTARDLY DEEDS!!!

Sunday, January 15, 2012


Fuck 'em both. I'm not in the mood.

How did nice guy Greg wind up an evil treacherous ASS?

The question I am most often asked is "Has Greg always been an evil money grubbing  fanged monster of  an asshole?". The answer is no. Once upon a time Greg was a really caring nice gentleman, friend, and pleasant co-worker. The first sign of trouble was actually fairly subtle. Greg slowly stopped answering to the name Greg and would only answer to Bitch Magnet. At first this was actually amusing as dear sweet Ruby would have to call in her lilting accent " Hey Bitch Magnet how to do this? I cancel first or ring first Bitch Magnet?". This was always good for a smile on a slow day. Or if Greg was in the back and an announcement was needed-"Bitch Magnet to vacuums please", or some such thing. Over time this grew wearisome and change was needed. My co-workers and I asked Greg to please return to answering to Greg. Surprisingly, he agreed to this. Our relief was short lived. You see,  during the entire Bitch Magnet phase Greg was still, overall, a nice and honest  man, who was merely delusional when it came to his sex appeal. Somewhere along the way Greg began to think that maybe nice guys really do finish last and it was time for a change. Did Greg then just show up to work evil one day? Of course not. Oddly' he showed up to work wearing a black cape. That day was the first day I know of Greg cheating a customer. Oh it was a small cheat; a few pennies extra on a filter or something. It could have been written off as an honest mistake if not for the cackle. The cackle was bone chilling in its menace. The cackle was as horrible sounding as a starved babys' scream. The only amusing aspect was Greg pulling his cape up to his chin for some sort of Dracula effect except it caught in his mouth and he gagged like an alley cat on a monster hairball. This lessened the menace of the cackle quickly and Greg decided he did not need a cape. It was visible in his eyes though he did not like being laughed at, he did not like being referred to as the "cape choking pussy" or "Count Chokeula." Greg vowed then and there that no one would ever laugh at him again.Sadly, it was that day that Shifty Evil Greg the Money Grubbing Lying Cheating Baby Stomping Old Lady Tripping Shit Kisser was born. Coincidentally, that same day Greg quit wearing white socks (not evil enough. now he only wears 100% wool socks that leave his feet hot sweaty and itchy. Much better for feeling rottenly evil.)
     I know most of you are wondering about Greg's marriage. I get asked all the time " isn't Greg married to the sweetest woman alive?". Yes. Does Greg's wife put up with his being evil? No. The poor sweet woman is unaware of her husbands rottenness! For example, word did get back to her about the time Greg sold a food stamp carrying single mother of three a ridiculously expensive microwave by telling her it could be used for birth control (if you need to know , it works by seating your uterus on the door while at full power for ten minutes a day). Greg, when questioned by his wife of how ethical this form of selling was, explained that it was most likely true and would save the woman the embarrassment of buying condoms and would be cheap sex education for her kids (what with seeing their beloved mother pantyless straddling a microwave). His sweet wife believed her husband and commended him for his thoughtfulness. Legend has it that when Greg was explaining all this B.S. to his wife he was harder than a trigonometry test at 7 am! Despicable. I know.

Thursday, January 12, 2012


Due to the overwhelming demand from my readers for more information on the nefarious Greg, I have felt compelled to immediately post about Greg's shifty shenanigans at the end of his shift today. Greg, the former mild mannered married martyr man who now gets his kicks swindling swankily swaddled seniors with surprisingly saintly smiles, has pulled another fast one. Greg pleaded to all ears about what a terrible day he was having and how there was no money to be made today and all this old woe is me crappola yada yada yada .  Anyway as Greg greedily grappled great customers away from deserving coworkers, the entire time bitching about what a bad no money day he was having, he was secretly stockpiling loads of big moneyed leads. Typical.
  Unbeknown  to Greg's innocent co-workers was the fact that BATBOY (yes the bat faced seven year old terror from News of the World) was hiding beneath a register waiting to pounce on anyone who tried to do their job in selling appliances to customers... EXCEPT FOR GREG! Why? I dare say because Greg and Batboy have some sort of weird homo-vampiric underage bestial relationship or something. Or maybe Batboy is just a pet. Either way no responsible adult should be bringing bat faced beast boys braying bloody boasts beyond established work parameters. But Greg pulls this kinda shit all the time! One day it's bat faced beast boys the next it's guns and crack. And for the record I fuckin' hate Batboy.

Tuesday, January 10, 2012


Yeah we all know Greg as the quiet amiable soul who doesn't like to cause trouble yada yada yada. Truth be told Greg will throw his wife,friends,children or parents under a bus just to grab a dollar. Greg just sold a defective fridge to two old ladies and smiled while he did it. As one woman sobbed hysterically Greg laughed like Satan in a Sears suit and quite literally kicked granny to the curb where she caught her orthopedics on a crack and twisted her ankle. Greg threw her an ice cube for the swelling. A fake ice cube with a bug in the middle.

What the F! is going on?

We are 10 days into January and it's Autumn weather at best. I am at work and there are more employees than customers. The National Championship football game featured no (0) touchdowns. I am bored but wide awake. Tonight I will be exhausted but will find no sleep (atleast not quickly). Seriously, what the fuck is going on?

Monday, January 2, 2012

ASSHOLES! Everybody has one.

I have to work with an asshole. This does not make me unique as almost all of us have at least one asshole we have to deal with on a regular basis. I suppose the size of the asshole counts for something. I don't mean the height or weight but the "size" of the asshole in question. For example, a person who steals your lunch out of the fridge then helps you try to figure out who did it is a fairly large asshole. However a person who steals your wallet to pay for a prostitute then gives your credit card to a crack dealer is a substantially larger asshole.