I may not be huddled over some archaic accounting book quilling with frozen fingers in the dim candlelight with a shawl wrapped around my torso (quite the opposite actually, as its hotter than your whore sister in here) but working Christmas Eve still sucks. The only people in today are me, Neal and some Jews. Oh well. At least I am not this poor bastard.

Labels: data slaughterhouse, xmas

Joe Namath, Hall of Fame NFL quarterback for the New York Jets was in attendance for the Jets-Patriots game this past Monday night. Sideline reporter Suzy Kolber caught up with Broadway Joe sometime between his eleventh and twelfth drink.

Labels: drinking, sports

After a morbidly obese woman crushed a toddler with her girth she proclaimed, "I'm crying. I'm hurting. I don't know what to do." Here is a suggestion: Go on a diet.

Click here for a related link regarding girth and mortality.

Labels: death, gluttony, science

I just checked my spam mail and was pleasantly surprised to receive an update regarding Belgian death metal. I do not ever recall visiting a Belgian death metal site nor signing up for an e-newsletter focusing on Belgian death metal, yet this is the second time Belgian death metal has found its way to me. Dare I claim a Christmas miracle?

Labels: music, tomfoolery, xmas

American forces have captured Saddam Hussein. Instead of going out in a blaze of glory with cock and balls in one hand and firing a Glock 9mm with the other, Saddam sat cowering in his dirt bunker, weeping like a schoolgirl with a skinned knee and surrendered to a 19 year-old jar head from Jerkwater, USA. It was a positive event for President Bush who experienced a one second 100% approval rating from me. Shortly thereafter, I went back to hating his filthy, whitebread-eating Texan guts. Jake thinks the haggard Saddam looks like Charles Manson, whereas I think he looks like Jerry Garcia's fucked-up Arab cousin.

Labels: jake, politics, pop culture, war

The Holy Trinity is now taking a more modernistic approach; the Father, the Son and the Holy Ballsack .

Labels: religion, tomfoolery

My friend John is a Catholic so he knows how to lay down a solid guilt trip. Take this email he sent me at lunch, for example:

I had a moment and wanted to share a surreal personal experience, not unlike your dream of advanced aircraft maintenance. I dreamed the other night that I had pimples on my face and one on my left eye (yes the reference to Lisa "Left Eye" Lopez, RIP, comes to mind). Well, I went to pop that bad boy and my eyeball exploded into my hand. According to my understanding of anatomy, the innards of the human eye have the relative volume and consistency of a chicken egg yolk. Little FYI. Then, with a black hole where my eye should have been, I ran around looking for a ride to the hospital. Just thought I would share that with you. I think it was my subconscious wrestling with trying to understand why you would not come out with us on Aaron's birthday. Thanks for the nightmares, jerk.

John, congratulations on your recent engagement. It is always wonderful to hear big news like that through a third party. Asshole.

Labels: johnny ballgame, l-i-v-i-n, tomfoolery

I just finished sifting through my post-Thanksgiving emails (I had 77 waiting for me when I strolled in). I have a legitimate use for only three of these emails. Now, I understand that bullshit office emails are a necessary function of corporate America. Any emails regarding the status of copy and fax machines, free muffins in the break room and the arrival of Burrito Guy I tolerate because they are necessary (the Burrito Guy is the unofficial company breakfast burrito peddler. His burritos rank somewhere between wet concrete and fresh elephant feces in terms of taste and edibility). What I cannot handle, however, are blast office emails regarding an individual's availability status; and nine times out of ten, it is usually someone in sales. The emails go something like this:

I will be out of the office for (insert time frame here). If anyone needs to contact me, please transfer to my voice mail or have them email me.

This is directed to anyone who has ever sent an email out like the one above:

First, if someone wants to contact you, chances are they already have your direct line, cell number or email. People in the business world understand that by using one or all of these methods of communication, their goal of getting in touch with you will be accomplished. The entire office does not need detailed instructions on what to do if someone calls or comes looking for you.

Second, nobody gives a shit where you are or will be at any given time. More than likely, people know what to do in your absence and/or possess the basic problem solving skills to figure out an alternative solution if you are not available. Contrary to the inflated ego inherent in cocksuckers like you, business continues operating when you are gone. This may come as a shock to your self-important ass, but you are just as expendable as the rest of us. It is called capitalism. You might have heard about it.

Finally, if you are not going to be in the office, use the Out of Office assistant or record an informative statement on your voice mail regarding your availability. Do not, I repeat, DO NOT email the entire fucking company.

I am tempted to start sending out company-wide emails informing the office of when I am going in to take a shit.

Labels: burritos, data slaughterhouse