Today totally licked the south end of a northbound donkey. For example:
-My alarm didn't go off, so I was two-and-a-half hours late for work! And it's not like I'm on salary; I had to stay an extra two-and-a-half at the end of the day. To prove how pathetic I am, instead of rushing to work when I realized how late I was going to be, I piddled around, had a cup of coffee, and COMMETED ON BLOGS. I answered some comments on my blog and left some on others. That is sad. That is "Old Yeller gets shot at the end" sad.
-Because of my faulty alarm (damn you, Sony Dream Machine!) and no-social-life-havin' procrastination, I had to endure rush hour traffic to and fro' work. Just driving out of my massive subdivision is enough to make me want to accept Satan as my god. I think every time some senile pensioner or crank-addled construction worker pulls out in front of me to the point I have to slam on my rather dubious brakes, an angel gets her wings. One guy who pulled out in front of me had large dents on BOTH SIDES of his car, and the rear bumper was falling off. His lone bumper sticker, which I believe was the only thing holding the bumper on, read "I'd Rather Be Raping a Goat".
-My boss informed me that we have our monthly meeting next Tuesday, which means I have to endure the presence of Sam, the most annoying co-worker ever. We're assigned to different stores, thank the lord, so he's reduced to being a monthly irritant to me. Ladies, imagine if your period had a voice. I call him "Aunt Sam" because he's my dreaded monthly visitor. I'm truly afraid I'll punch him in the face. Just because.
-A lady who works for Home Depot always goes out of her way to talk to me. I'm sure it won't be long before I'm listening to all of her problems and not sleeping with her. Yippie.
-Being late for work and late leaving meant I had to cancel a dinner with a blogger friend who was in town. I was supposed to have dinner with her before she caught her plane home, but long story short, there was no way I'd make it on time. I did have drinks with her at House of Blues on Monday night. I had a god damn blast! We watched Rockstar Karaoke, where people sing karaoke songs backed by a live band. It was cool. I don't know if I have clearance to use her name, but the blogger in question is awesome. She is a hip, hip, hip lady.
-I've been sticking with my diet, but I'm beginning to question why. Do I want to live longer? Well, not the life I have now; a better life, sure. Will it help me meet women? Probably not. It'll just mean even hotter women will want me to be their friend.
I'm sure tomorrow will be better.
-My alarm didn't go off, so I was two-and-a-half hours late for work! And it's not like I'm on salary; I had to stay an extra two-and-a-half at the end of the day. To prove how pathetic I am, instead of rushing to work when I realized how late I was going to be, I piddled around, had a cup of coffee, and COMMETED ON BLOGS. I answered some comments on my blog and left some on others. That is sad. That is "Old Yeller gets shot at the end" sad.
-Because of my faulty alarm (damn you, Sony Dream Machine!) and no-social-life-havin' procrastination, I had to endure rush hour traffic to and fro' work. Just driving out of my massive subdivision is enough to make me want to accept Satan as my god. I think every time some senile pensioner or crank-addled construction worker pulls out in front of me to the point I have to slam on my rather dubious brakes, an angel gets her wings. One guy who pulled out in front of me had large dents on BOTH SIDES of his car, and the rear bumper was falling off. His lone bumper sticker, which I believe was the only thing holding the bumper on, read "I'd Rather Be Raping a Goat".
-My boss informed me that we have our monthly meeting next Tuesday, which means I have to endure the presence of Sam, the most annoying co-worker ever. We're assigned to different stores, thank the lord, so he's reduced to being a monthly irritant to me. Ladies, imagine if your period had a voice. I call him "Aunt Sam" because he's my dreaded monthly visitor. I'm truly afraid I'll punch him in the face. Just because.
-A lady who works for Home Depot always goes out of her way to talk to me. I'm sure it won't be long before I'm listening to all of her problems and not sleeping with her. Yippie.
-Being late for work and late leaving meant I had to cancel a dinner with a blogger friend who was in town. I was supposed to have dinner with her before she caught her plane home, but long story short, there was no way I'd make it on time. I did have drinks with her at House of Blues on Monday night. I had a god damn blast! We watched Rockstar Karaoke, where people sing karaoke songs backed by a live band. It was cool. I don't know if I have clearance to use her name, but the blogger in question is awesome. She is a hip, hip, hip lady.
-I've been sticking with my diet, but I'm beginning to question why. Do I want to live longer? Well, not the life I have now; a better life, sure. Will it help me meet women? Probably not. It'll just mean even hotter women will want me to be their friend.
I'm sure tomorrow will be better.
28 Comments:
You're hilarious.
Commented on blogs? Hmm, I seem to have missed that part of your day.
;)
Sorry your day wasn't exactly top notch but thanks for the great pick me up.
Lovin' you!
Admit it Todd, you'd rather be rapin' a goat, too, right?
I've definitely done the good friend who hears all the problems and doesn't get to sleep with 'em. I'm not really sure how I got rid of it. I think that lots of alcohol in very social situations was a big part of it. Never so good at picking up chicks, though.
MollyNormal! You've been housing MY PMS demon!
You can keep it. No, really. I insist.
I'll just sit here and eat ice cream sandwiches.
Mmmmm. Ice cream sandwiches.
Todd dear, when you are that damn late, whats the fucking point of hurrying? Take your time honey, the world will wait for you.lol I hope tommorrow is definately better for you!
I do the same thing when I'm late for work.
Life has been much easier since I accepted Satan as my god.
And I don't suggest punching your monthly visitor in the face, you're gonna have to take my word on this.
ally,
thank you. I appreciate your comment.
rachel,
I actually had a phone conversation that was the highlight of my day, but it didn't fit the overall tone of this post. The phone call was to a fantastic person and it cheered me up, however briefly.
wun,
I don't rape goats, I seduce them.
shaken,
yes, my dear, as bad as my day may have been, at no time was I laying on my bathroom floor praying for death. I hope you feel better.
molly,
My Aunt Sam calls me "Mr. Todd" and has the social presence of a velvet painting of the Last Supper.
ubie,
I'm on a diet, for fuck's sake. Thanks for coming here and blathering on about ice cream sandwiches. Why don't just dry-ice ship a few dozen deep dish Chicago pizzas to my house while you're at it.
wmy,
the sooner I'm there, the sooner I can leave.
pants,
I will take your word on it. Let us never speak of this again.
How exactly does one seduce a goat? I do know that if you put a sheep's head in water, it'll back up. One of my wonderful Air Force fucknuts taught me that. Maybe goats are the same way.
The Home Depot woman approached you because she is attracted to you. No woman pursues conversation with a man she just wants to be friends with. You should have those "just friends" girls bent over and banging them anyway.
Friends with Benefits....fuck buddies...you have to make that move, Todd. I fuck some of my friends. It's all good in the 'hood.
Think of it like this: if you lose the weight then hotter women will want to be your friend, but the just hot women who currently want to be your friend will want to sleep with you.
Hey, Old Yeller dies in the end? Aw, shit. There goes my day.
I've seen rock star karaoke!! I was there on a Wednesday night and there was a huge convention for communications or advertising or some such nonsense so it was all these business people trying to let loose and make an ass of themselves in front of their co-workers.
The highlight of my night let me tell ya.
Dude, the working out will make a difference man. You can just blabber on about yourself ad nauseum like I do on my blog. It's fun reading for all. Then you can hope your lucky stars someone will drop a big fat Comment Bomb on your blog.
But seriously, I'd rather be raping a goat? Who the fuck puts that one their car? I cringe at the thought of what used to be on the car.
...oh yeah.. I think I have met that Home Depot woman online or something. She sounds vaguely familiar.
HAR HAR HAR!
Morning traffic blows about as hard as a hooker on Hugh Grant (lucky hooker).
Stay on that diet! Think about how good you're going to feel in the summer.
ohh damn.. I'm sorry your day was shitty.. but I cracked a rib laughin at your post..Love you to bits Todd!!
oh well, it happens to us all at some stage.
best of luck with the diet- now that is a word that has the ability to seriously piss me off!
wuneye,
uh, sometimes I say things on this blog that I don't really mean.
blonde,
Women always pursue conversation with me and just want to be friends.
real,
we should introduce it to "Aunt Sam".
jj,
you'd think so, but history tells me otherwise.
knitty,
oh, newest object of my old man lust, you are correct. Rock star karaoke is a fun time.
egan,
I will never be in great shape. "Less fat" is what I'm shooting for. The "I'd rather be raping a goat" line was just a metaphor for what a rube the person was.
claudia,
yeah, being fat in the summer sucks ass. I think even the Crypt Keeper would be hot in a Vegas summer, though.
infamous,
there were about ten people in that car. I'll bet the smell was unbearable.
doggrrrrl,
I did not "skip out on you". We wouldn't have been able to eat a decent dinner in the twenty minutes we would have had before your shuttle took you to the airport. It is my fault that I overslept, however, and for that I apologise.
sindy,
thanks. If you're ever in Vegas perhaps I can skip out on you, as well.
ams,
diets suck, but so does being a fat bastard.
Oh, Todd, how do I love thee?
Let me count the ways...
You make me laugh til snot flies out my nose.
You love big juicy hamburgers.
You could, and would, squash evil ex-husbands between your thumb and forefinger.
You enjoy breasts and warm soft woman-parts.
You know how to organize a closet.
And enjoy the same music I do.
That's just the beginning...
Todd, sure you do.
Todd, just think how much shittier your day would be if YOU had a period voice.
Be thankful for that!
ubie,
you say the sweetest things. Let me respond one by one:
I actually consider making you laugh my responsibility, as penance for my being an occasional jackass.
I can still eat a hamburger every now and then. I just leave off the cheese and mayo.
The streets will flow with the blood of evil ex-husbands.
Ummmm, breasts and warm soft woman parts.
My closet looks like a bomb exploded in it, but I do know how to design and organize a closet. I designed them at Organized Living. It was a rip-off of the Container Store. If they have a Container Store in Chicago, check them out. Organized Living wasn't smart enough to put a store near the third largest city in America.
There used to be a band that played eighties covers at a casino near my house. It was good times.
There's more? I'm blushing.
One of my kids pulled a clump of hair out of another kid's head today. By the root. After this he poked another kid in the hand with a pencil and then threw himself on the floor in a screaming fit. So please, tell me all about your shitty day, Todd. And then go get me a drink.
Brooke,
that's sarcasm, isn't it? You don't really want to hear all about my shitty day, do you?
I would definitely get you a drink, and I would look down your shirt as I served it to you.
I don't have a problem with that. Bombay Sapphire and tonic please. Extra lime.
Brooke always steals what I would have said...
I swear, we were separated at birth!
brooke,
the chicks love vodka and tonic, I've come to realize.
real,
oh, you want me to serve you vodka and tonics, too? No problem.
Isn't Bombay a gin? As in Gin and tonic?
I hate gin - it's what I imagine licking a christmas tree would taste like.
Vodka for me please, Grey Goose, icy cold, straight up with a sugar-coated lemon on the side.
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