Friday, March 30, 2012
Jovial John, the upbeat mongoloid manager, has asked yours truly to please make some corrections to erroneous information that he feels has portrayed him unfairly on this very website. Being forthright, honest, and proud of the integrity of this blog, I immediately agreed to clear up any misconceptions I may have placed in the minds of my readers. First, John has asked that I clear the air on his "jovialness". He feels the word jovial is not accurate. Gay would be a better word. Not in the homosexual way but in the Fred Flinstone (who he resembles) gay old time way. So in keeping with this request I shall only refer to him as Gay John from here on out (except for the rare occasions when Cocksucker would work better). Secondly, Gay John does not feel he looks like he has Downes Syndrome. Perhaps that was a poor descriptive choice on my part. As noted, he does resemble Fred Flinstone but only slightly. GJ (Gay John) looks more like 1/4 Yogi Berra mixed with Fred Flinstones' face on Yogi Bears ass with a dash of Pillsbury Dough Boy spliced with the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man swirled with the old school charm of the banjo player form Deliverance and Will Ferrels chin. Hopefully, this is a much better, more accurate, and on target description of Gay John than was previously provided. Thirdly, Gay John felt insulted when I wrote that the tuba section is where band sends anyone to stupid for kazoo. Apparently, most marching bands do not actually utilize kazoo players and even if they did they would not, automatically, be considered any smarter than the average tuba player. In fact, many marching band tuba players grow up and become useful members of society (please do not ask for examples as I have none. Though the law of averages dictates that there must be one). Fourthly, Gay John wants it known by all that he is in a wonderful, loving relationship with an extraordinary woman who loves him mind, body and soul. For those of you who think I am about to make a snarky comment on what kind of woman would love the Gay One you are wrong. I firmly believe John is deserving of a fantastic relationship with a loving, good hearted woman and I am ecstatic that he feels he has found one. I am also positive that in 16 years when she makes parole they will be forever happy together.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
The Shady One, well known for being a big time pussy, sunk even lower on the flaming pussy meter landing just beneath "the Donald Duck dressed Elton John ".For what, you may ask. Allow me to enlighten you. The Shady One ( now also known as the pussy who gets ass banged by girls ) decided to ONCE AGAIN call off from work. This time, because he couldn't bring himself to missing even one minute of the Dancing with the Stars results show; told his employers that he had sniffles. The fucking Snufalupagus gets sniffles. Real men get gunshot wounds or some other sort of manly disease or something. Not the fucking sniffles! And not because of Dancing with the fucking wannabe stars! Besides, it's no secret Martina Navratilova is getting bumped tonight. Pussy!
Saturday, March 24, 2012
Due to popular demand, it is time to reveal the back story of how Shady Greg and Jovial John became such firm friends. It turns out they went to high school together. Which is really scary considering Greg is 23 years older than John (Gregs' mother held him back until he was emotionally and physically ready). Way back in those golden years of long ago at that early stage of life neither Shady Greg nor Jovial John were known by those nicknames. No. Shady was called Ol' Lonely and Jovial was referred to as Bubble (short for Bubble boy. Not because he lived in a bubble, but because people wished he did). Did Shady deserve to be called Ol' Lonely? Yes. Greg had no friends. Zero. Zip. Zilch. Gregs' mother even tried the trick of tying a pork chop around his neck just to get the dog to play with him and the dog turned vegetarian. So anyway it was inevitable that Bubble and Lonely would find each other and develop a friendship. Lonely was old enough to buy beer (which they talked about but never tried) and Bubble told jokes. At least he and Lonely thought they were jokes (what did one banana say to the other banana? Hey, your yellow). Boy how the two of them would laugh. "It's like no gets the fact that bananas really are yellow". Not real surprising they had no other friends is it? The two of them did everything together, ate lunch together, got beat up together; even formed a circle jerk together. Although that did not last long as Lonely had weak wrists and Dungeons and Dragons porn is hard to find anyway. Like all young lads they were curious, wanting to find their place in the world. They harbored secret dreams and aspirations. Lonely hoped to someday captain the field hockey team (he never did. Lil' Becky Boonce captained and lettered all four years) while Bubble dreamed of becoming The Drum Major. Two things stood in Bubbles' way to making Drum Major : 1). Bubble was a tuba player. The tuba section is where band sticks you if you're too stupid for kazoo. 2). Bubble played drums using his face. Wonderful for a Late Night stupid human trick, terrible for an actual Drum Major. Also, not to be mean but Bubble doing high kicks while spinning a baton was about as likely as Brian Hunt winning a slam dunk contest. OK I guess that was a little mean. If only because Brian jumps as well as Bubble looks. Anyhow, Lonely was in band as well. Lonely was a clarinet player. A kind of scary coincidence : At this time in pop culture Mr. T was at the height of his fame and lonely referred to all things clarinet as "licking the licorice stick". Make of that what you will. For anyone interested Bubble referred to all things tuba as "blowing wind with my Fart Partner". This brings us to the end of part one of this story. Part two will appear in the near future if there is a call for it. Please leave a comment in the comment section if you enjoyed part one.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
I was in no way , in my previous post, making fun of Downes Syndrome. Nor was I making fun of anyone with Downes Syndrome. I was, however, making fun of an unfortunate soul who sorta looks Downes Syndrome-ish. Which is really fucking funny. So stop with the hate mail and calling for my head and appreciate the predicament of Jovial John. Poor Smiley Boy (J.J.) (Jovial freakin' John DUMB ASS!) can be standing on a street corner just waiting for the light to change when people begin tossing quarters into a hat for him (even supplying the hat!). John is of reasonable intelligence yet people still feel more comfortable talking to him if they have sock puppets and a colored chalk board. He rarely notices this sort of treatment and just blindly walks through life with a giant smile plastered on his un-evenly semi-shaved "face". The only time I ever felt bad for him, even stopped laughing at him for a day, was when he found out about his girlfriend. Jovial John had been in what he thought was a deep and committed relationship with a girl far too pretty for his face,build and station in life. They spent a tremendous amount of time together over the course of a year having deep and deeply personal conversations. John said more than once he could really talk to this wonderful and sympathetic young lady. Then one day she just stopped coming around. John was devastated. Three weeks went by when I ran into her at a 7/11. I began to chew her out for just dumping Smiley. She smiled weakly and handed me her business card. Turns out she was just doing Pro Bono counseling for a hospital while researching the "Reality Oblivious". Poor Jovial, he is now famous to the New England Journal of Medicine crowd and doesn't even know it. So I am sorry for making fun of him, but I told you he was fucking funny.
Shady Greg, the shadiest shiteater shopping schlock today has topped himself for shady shit. The Gregster (his latest self nickname) was scheduled to close at work but he had the opportunity to scam seniors out of their pension funds with his best friend (BoBo the Wonder Dog - as seen on Miracle Network Television) and immediately began scheming on how to leave work early. He first told management that his glands were over active. That merely grossed people out and he was told to schedule a doctors appointment A.S.A.P. So the Shady One went back to the drawing board and came up with (after much deliberation. no one ever suggested extreme intelligence on his part) that he was suffering from sore feet. Yes, at a job where everyone is on their feet all day, The Gregger (another self nickname. he's troubled) decided he should be sent home early because of sore feet. An appliance salesmen complaining of sore feet is akin to a bus driver complaining of a sore ass. It comes with the territory. But not for Shady Greg. No! No! Shady thinks his creepy callused fungus infested feet are somehow special. Actually, he thinks his feet are special because he has webbed toes. Only every other toe is webbed which is really odd. Also the second toe on each foot is ridiculously long giving Greg the ability to hang upside down. Freaky! Not "special". Freaky! Anyhow, Shadys' management buddy, the Downes Syndrome looking but not having, Jovial John sent him home. I was pissed.
Friday, March 16, 2012
Here at Kitchens and More the top brass are into saving money. One way they do this is by fucking over all store employees. It is 72 degrees outside and 83 degrees inside! 83 and really humid. Really fucking humid! My balls, thanks to our outdated play list and no cooling system, are sweating to the oldies. My balls should not be losing weight at work when they aren't working and then head home only to be put to work and not losing weight due to dehydration and they have to quit working. At my age I want them working when needed and getting plenty of rest when not working so that they never stop working. You follow? Anyhow, all I want right now is a cooler work environment. I have no customers so I am not really working here at work but my balls are working up a sweat even though they aren't being put to work. Fuck!
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
Things can get kind of slow here in the appliance department at Kitchens and More. Sometimes too slow. For instance, just the other day somebodys' wife baked up a giant tray of cheesecake and told her husband to bring it in to his cronies at work. He did. We were all grateful and enjoyed the camaraderie of sharing the cheesecake and trading stories. It helped break up an otherwise slow day;. but as is common in life, all good things come to pass. We got down to the last piece of cheesecake and their was a bit of discussion as to who actually deserved the last piece. Sam felt it should be his for being the high salesman for the day. Sweet Ruby thought it should be hers for being the only woman. Adam thought it should be his for being the tallest. Tom thought it should be his for being the roundest. All semi-valid reasons for a bunch of bored, non thinking zombies waiting for the day to end. I suggested we draw straws, short straw wins. All agreed and the drawing of the straws commenced. Jimmie won. When Jimmie went to claim his prize I noticed a deranged grin on the weak chin of Shady Greg. A split second before the last slice of cheesecake hit Jimmies palate Ruby screamed "OMYGAWD! A SHORT AND CURLIE!". Jimmie threw the cheesecake back in the tray and barely kept from barfing. We all disgustedly stared at the contaminated slice. Jimmie stated the obvious. "Man, that's FUCKED up!" he said. Adam said he had looked at every piece earlier, to choose the best, and that none of them had pubic hairs upon the surface. So the question was, who would be sick minded enough to plant a pubic hair on community cake simply to guarantee the last slice for themselves? The only answer agreed by all was, of course, Shady Greg. When confronted with this hypothesis the Shady one smirked like a pooh flinging chimpanzee and said "Yes I put my ball warmer on the cake! I also made the gatorade but due to my high blood sugar no one noticed!". We all threw up and then kicked Greg in the sack house.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Shady Greg has skipped town! This joyous statement made thousands of Townies smile and pop open the champagne. Unfortunately, we came to find out we were free of Greg for a limited time only. Shady Greg was supposed to work on Tuesday. He decided to stay home and file his toes. The last second replacement for Shady at work was a brownish little troll with a speech impediment. I had to work on Tuesday as well. I, of course, showed up for work and was greeted with what sounded like a helium balloon farting. Apparently, that is the sound brownish trolls make when greeting. I have never been a fan of Shady Greg and his slimy ways, however, brownish trolls are disgusting and annoying. I was stuck with the worse of two Evils. The brownish troll spent most of the afternoon perched on a Maytag sniffing his fingers except when a human came within ten yards. Then the mud lover would screech "BEBACK! BEBACK! Mine! Mine!" and leap from his perch flapping its spindly arm type things while wailing for "Man-ger apruvole" or something. During a long stretch of inaction I stupidly asked the brownish troll where Greg was. The troll took one long last sniff of a rectum coated finger and said "Shady gone gone Shady eess". A deranged passerby overheard this and took it to mean that Shady Greg had skipped town. That rumour caused the impromptu parade down Main street. For that I am sorry but if the Shady One would only show up for work when he is supposed to we wouldn't have brownish little trolls spreading rumours to begin with.