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Friday, May 25, 2012


Shady Greg, the notorious prick, decided to get even with all of his co-workers. Get even for what? For the crime of being Bastards and Bitches in our behaviour towards him (in his mind). So Shady Greg hatched his most diabolical plan to date! He created the Fart Diet! You may of course wonder what a Fart Diet is. It's a diet that allows the user to eat whatever he wants, so long as it creates the most noxious gas imaginable. For instance, eating an orange is pointless because nobody has ever complained about orange farts. However, apple farts are some of the most disgusting on earth. Thus apples are a staple of the Fart Diet. Wine. Wine does not cause nasty gas, however, beer will do wonders to the Ozone! Therefor beer is a mandatory part of the Fart Diet. You must understand, Shady Greg is a sick, deranged bastard who studied his farts for 17 years (as part of a family unity project) and used his findings to create a daily regimen of eating, focused on farting. Shady determined that eggs were responsible for 63% of his "puffers" - Farts that blow out semi-softly with a slight whooshing sound. His research showed that garlic, which is a natural cleanser, shot out Retard Making smells in a machine gun rat-a-tat-tat way that also "Felt" really,really good. Everyone on the planet knows beans cause gas, but Shady Greg learned to differentiate between pinto,black, and navy bean farts. Like a gas obsessed alchemist Shady created his own hybrid bean which contained the A-Bomb power of a black bean fart with the elongated blasting noise of baked beans while still delivering the central nervous system attack of a Louisiana Red Beans and Rice shocker. When you combine this kind of, otherwise, useless information with the drive to eat meals made entirely of "fart" foods you tend to get gastrointestinal attacks of COW HERD proportions! Think of it- one man consuming a garlic,apple, and Greg-O-Bean (his name for his bean) six egg omelet , topped with muenster cheese (for gas you can see!) and coconut (for "texture"-don't ask me, talk to the sick fuck) and washed down with Blatz Beer (beer guarunteed to flex your sphincter) and you have a walking, unhinged, Bio-Weapon with the power to melt plastic at twenty yards while killing flies (and coworkers) within an 18 foot radius. This is what we here at Kitchens and More have to deal with. GOD HELP US!

Thursday, May 24, 2012


Gay Deep Throat John has dropped 'John' from his name completely and now wishes to be known as Gay Stress. For a while he considered wearing a mask and cape calling himself The Gay Stress like a twisted superhero whose main power is freaking out and crumbling in the clutch but he couldn't come up with a color combo for the outfit that he liked (the fuchsia cape clashed with yellow trousers and green mask). I really wanted him to be The Gay Stress because I got a HUGE kick out of the motto he created for this erstwhile alter-ego which was to be-"Faster than a speeding sedative, more powerful than being "Outed", and able to duck multiple blame simultaneously It's a dick  It's a dork (it's a little bit o' both) It's The Gay Stress!"- Isn't that just fucking Awesome? But it wasn't to be as John, oops, as Gay Stress decided that superhero costumes are to difficult to maintain and adding a "pooper seat" to one was undignified (How the fuck Does Superman shit in that thing?). So anyhow we now have a manager here at Kitchens and More known as Gay Stress. The reason for the name change from Gay Deep Throat John to Gay Stress? Stress. While all managers here are walking deposits of ulcer creating stress (except for Billy Dee Shawn-Smooth Mofo) John wanted to differentiate himself from the pack by pointing out his gayness, not his Guy on John gayness but his Good Ship Lollipop gayness. So with that in mind Gay Stress was born. We can only hope he soon becomes THE GAY STRESS!!!

Friday, May 18, 2012


Shady Greg. Gay Deep Throat John. Brownish Trolls. The Horseless Barbarian. GhostMark.- One would think that those of us here at Kitchens and More have been struck with enough Fist of Freak Force that we deserve a break from the bedlam. But, no. No rest for the wicked or those they surround. We have now added the Brown Nose Bewitcher to our long list of  loathable losers. And if She were not enough to be hit with; She created The Wicked Enchantment of  GhostMark! The Tragic Tale of GhostMark  is far too long to go into here and now, but suffice to say that before the arrival of The Brown Nose Bewitcher, his haunting 'twas but a whisper. The Brown Nosed One arrived quietly, about two months ago, under light of a full moon. She was of fairly normal appearance, weather worn but not shabby, with feet three sizes bigger than her height would suggest. If only we had recognized that omen for what it was! But no. Alas, we of blind eye knew not what we saw (The Bewitching!) and saw nothing out of sort. We were told her name was Deb Orzo (A lie!) and that she was but a transfer from a newly closed store in our chain ( a store closed not because of economy but of Witch Craft?). I say she came quietly. True! But her silence lasted but a minute. At first her nose was normal in look, normal in size; a nose that blended within unremarkableness to go virtually unnoticed. Soon enough tho', the Mark did appear. As manager after manager fell under this She-Devil spell the Mark grew more distinctive. If she did not like a schedule, the schedule was changed. If she wanted to leave work early, she was granted early leave. As this Bewitched Bitchy Beast Boldly Bloodied Bum-managers into submission (which they thanked her for) the Mark filled into its final terrifying form- That of a Bulls Eye, all in brown, engulfing the end of her nose. Using her gigantic feet to propel her inhumanly she then lept o'top the microhoods and shrieked with blood curdling power-"I am the Brown Nose Bewitcher! Beware for I am Queen of the Damned (dumd ass customer) and I now rule this store (except on my days off. I get tired like anyone else). Then she lept to the ground, shook out her Medusa like mane, and ambled (first time I ever saw a chick amble!) over to our manager and said "Rosie sweeeeety. Can I leave early? I tired." Of course she was granted early leave. I must put aside this telling now, but soon I shall share the terrible truth known as The Wicked Enchantment of GhostMark.

Friday, May 11, 2012


Shady Greg, the mentally unstable jackass idiot of annoyance, has become even more unstable and annoying. Here at Kitchens and More we have hired a new associate named Arthur (Art) (or Franklin because he looks like John Adams). Art is a pleasant sort of fellow, quiet, sort of nervous, with an odd way of speaking which makes me think he used to get his ass kicked a lot so now try's to go un-noticed or something. Anyhow, Shady Fuckin' Greg decides he wants to raise money for charity and he is looking for a way to do it. Now, before you go thinking Shady is some kind of nice guy let me make it clear that charity is actually Charity- A clapped up,hunched back,toothless pole dancer who's missing her left foot due to a weed whacker incident (incident not accident). Charity wants a boob job. Shady wants her to have one. Apparently, she is also missing one boob and the one she has is flat,ugly, and hairy! So she and Shady want her to get a brand new big one-Centered!-without hair. Charity is white but Shady is trying to convince her to get a black boob because he has unresolved issues to clear up and it won't show a tan line. Anyhow, Charity found out that Art works at Kitchens and More when she came in to shop prosthetics for her missing foot (We don't sell prosthetics per say, but do sell big party platters and bowls which ,if attached properly, would allow Charity a sort of gliding motion while never being without onion dip). Charity saw Art and spat in his general direction. Art flinched and hid in the Home Goods section until she left. Turns out Art, long ago in days gone by, used to be Charity's number one non-contact lap dance customer (Art refused contact due to germ concerns. Charity had to use the arm rests to raise herself above him). Art would then tip Charity, who's real name is Cinamon Roxy; a name she felt wasn't "stripperish" enough, with a Canadien dollar. Charity considered Canadien dollar tips to be a very bad tip since at the time a Canadien dollar was worth like 12 cents in America (However, a Canadien dollar was worth $57 in Peru or the head of a chicken. The head of a chicken in Peru is of course worth two ox tails. Two ox tails or the head of a chicken both being easier to spend in Peru than $57). Anyhow, when Shady Fuckin' Greg (or the Great Gregarious Greg the Grand Guy-another one of his stupid self nicknames that nobody uses. Gregarious, I would guess,is to be ironic because he can barely string two coherent sentences together) heard that Charity disliked Art and he decided he too disliked Art. Charity decided Greg was easily led enough that she could get him to do anything she wished. She told Greg to "rid me, and thus the world, of the disturbance that is The Dread Tipper Art". Shady Greg, having the IQ of a clam and the courage of a bunny took this to mean that he should pester Art until Art leaves. Shady did  attempt to solicit financial contributions from all of his co-workers for the pleasure of watching Art get "Wet Willied". None of us contributed. And one day there Art stood, alone by the dehumidifiers, when Shady snuck up behind him, screamed "Wet Willy!", and shoved his pinky sized dick into Arthurs waxy canal. Most people ,of course, use a saliva soaked finger but Greg didn't want to have to wash his hands later.

Friday, May 4, 2012


Gay Deep Throat John is now trying to live up to his moniker with a massively FLAMING GAY hit on the new operations manager who is actually straight. Pathetic and funny at the same time. John has taken to wearing little spurs on his shoes and carrying a riding crop which he thumps on his thighs while whispering "hurt me baby" to nobody in particular. John is also singing the name game song, or whatever the Hell it's called, constantly, under his breath " Tony bony a banana a moan-eee Ton-eyyy Bone meeee". Then he shudders and croaks "women...I like women" (with less and less conviction it seems). Poor confused and abused Deep Throat. Life is so uncertain.