Am I the only person who thinks that buttered popcorn and warm urine are just about the same smell?
If there was a smell wheel, like the color wheel but with smells, I think urine and buttered popcorn would be side by side; like yellow and slightly golden yellow.
I think that there are a lot of delicious and beautiful smells that are just the slightest variation away from putrid and disgusting. When I was in college the appartment complex I lived in had a long row of trees that bloomed white in the spring. For a week they smelled nice and pretty and they looked beautiful and I loved to walk past them. After that week they smelled exactly like crotch. But the smell wasn't really all that different.
And how often have you been in a far corner of your house when you thought, "Oh God, what is that awful smell?" Then when your wife tells you she's stewing pot roast you think, "Ooh, that sounds delicious," and suddenly the smells is yummy.
Nasty sits right next to delicious on the smell wheel.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Friday, April 18, 2008
You Can Retire a MILLIONAIRE!!!!!!
You do not need to have a glamorous, high paying job to retire rich. All you have to do to retire a millionaire is follow these three simple rules:
1. Don't not have a job.
2. Don't do spend the money you earn on things you do or don't need.
3. Start investing as much of your earnings as possible thirty years ago.
Also, try and avoid these three common pitfalls to retiring wealthy:
1. Eating.
2. Having children.
3. Doing anything.
I'm thinking of writing a Financial Management book. I think I've finally figured out all of the secrets. Here are some common tricks that no one tells you about:
Be born rich.
That one seems pretty typical among the rich.
Also:
Be a huge dick.
Talk about how broke you are.
Bitch about how all of your tax dollars are going to help crack babies and teenage whore moms and say things like you already give enough to private organizations even though you know it's a lie.
Those also seems pretty common.
I think I have this down. I'll be rich before you know it.
****
Review:
STUPID ADVICE TO MAKE MONEY THAT CAN'T HELP ANYONE:
FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF*ckyou
yeah, duh? do you really freakin' think that anyone out there doesn't know that you have to save money if you want to save money? we aren't retarded out here.
I actually read an article on Yahoo yesterday that said it was easy to retire a millionaire. all you need to do is start saving money at age 26. my God! who gives the first shit about retirement at age 26? I didn't. and even if I had I didn't have any money. at age 26 I was lucky if I went a full month with all of my utilities on. the phrase, "Savings Account," was followed by ironic laughter in my house. and then the laughter was followed by tears.
but maybe I'm wrong. maybe, just maybe the average person out there makes tons of money, but they think the best way to invest it is to eat it and then flush it down the toilet.
1. Don't not have a job.
2. Don't do spend the money you earn on things you do or don't need.
3. Start investing as much of your earnings as possible thirty years ago.
Also, try and avoid these three common pitfalls to retiring wealthy:
1. Eating.
2. Having children.
3. Doing anything.
I'm thinking of writing a Financial Management book. I think I've finally figured out all of the secrets. Here are some common tricks that no one tells you about:
Be born rich.
That one seems pretty typical among the rich.
Also:
Be a huge dick.
Talk about how broke you are.
Bitch about how all of your tax dollars are going to help crack babies and teenage whore moms and say things like you already give enough to private organizations even though you know it's a lie.
Those also seems pretty common.
I think I have this down. I'll be rich before you know it.
****
Review:
STUPID ADVICE TO MAKE MONEY THAT CAN'T HELP ANYONE:
FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF*ckyou
yeah, duh? do you really freakin' think that anyone out there doesn't know that you have to save money if you want to save money? we aren't retarded out here.
I actually read an article on Yahoo yesterday that said it was easy to retire a millionaire. all you need to do is start saving money at age 26. my God! who gives the first shit about retirement at age 26? I didn't. and even if I had I didn't have any money. at age 26 I was lucky if I went a full month with all of my utilities on. the phrase, "Savings Account," was followed by ironic laughter in my house. and then the laughter was followed by tears.
but maybe I'm wrong. maybe, just maybe the average person out there makes tons of money, but they think the best way to invest it is to eat it and then flush it down the toilet.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Your fortune?
So, it's official. Medical science has deemed that I can see into the future.
Actually, what my doctor said was, "Michael, you're far-sighted."
It was a metaphore.
Review:
LOOSING YOUR VISION:
C for Craptastic.
so there I was in the eye doctor room and she said, "Read the bottom line for me." and I did, because I'm a pro. and she said, "Now close your right eye." and I did. and I looked through the little mirror thingy and I saw V T Z X O. and she said, "Good, now read it with both eyes." and I did. and I saw V T E X C, and I knew she was a witch.
now, I don't think this was fair to test me like this because I didn't get to study. I don't do so well with pop quizzes. if I had been able to study I know I'd have gotten the E and probably the C.
then she made me read some more lines and I got them wrong also. but this was also not my fault on account of I might have been drunk. you never know.
then I had to look through this new fangled contraption with flippy circles of glass what made my eyes see righter. and she said, "Is that better?" and I said yes, though her hand never touched me. and she said, "Is that better still?" and I said, "Still it is." and we might have fallen into courtship, had I not been the married type, and had she not been great with age and a devil-woman, and had I been the slightest attracted to her.
then she said, "Kind sir, open your eyes so that I may light them ablaze." and against my own better judgement I did and so she did; whichn is why I was inclined to believe her a witch; a bride of the devil. so with only but a drop of some wicked water she made my eyes catch to fire, though they were not consumed. then she bade me go and view the spectacles in her room of waiting, while she tortured my wife for being lucky enough to have found me in the first place.
and thus I viewed eye-glasses until her devilish potion worked and I was blinded for nigh on four hours. and so she took me back into her lair when she had finished abusing my wife and she tried to have her way with me. and she shone lights into my eyes and I said, "Please, do not consume my innocent soul and descend into the hoary depths of the netherworld." and she said, "You're eyes are healthy Mr. Fleming. You can go."
and I did go. and I bumped into a lot of shit as I did. because I'd never had my eyes dilated before is why. and my wife had to drive.
Actually, what my doctor said was, "Michael, you're far-sighted."
It was a metaphore.
Review:
LOOSING YOUR VISION:
C for Craptastic.
so there I was in the eye doctor room and she said, "Read the bottom line for me." and I did, because I'm a pro. and she said, "Now close your right eye." and I did. and I looked through the little mirror thingy and I saw V T Z X O. and she said, "Good, now read it with both eyes." and I did. and I saw V T E X C, and I knew she was a witch.
now, I don't think this was fair to test me like this because I didn't get to study. I don't do so well with pop quizzes. if I had been able to study I know I'd have gotten the E and probably the C.
then she made me read some more lines and I got them wrong also. but this was also not my fault on account of I might have been drunk. you never know.
then I had to look through this new fangled contraption with flippy circles of glass what made my eyes see righter. and she said, "Is that better?" and I said yes, though her hand never touched me. and she said, "Is that better still?" and I said, "Still it is." and we might have fallen into courtship, had I not been the married type, and had she not been great with age and a devil-woman, and had I been the slightest attracted to her.
then she said, "Kind sir, open your eyes so that I may light them ablaze." and against my own better judgement I did and so she did; whichn is why I was inclined to believe her a witch; a bride of the devil. so with only but a drop of some wicked water she made my eyes catch to fire, though they were not consumed. then she bade me go and view the spectacles in her room of waiting, while she tortured my wife for being lucky enough to have found me in the first place.
and thus I viewed eye-glasses until her devilish potion worked and I was blinded for nigh on four hours. and so she took me back into her lair when she had finished abusing my wife and she tried to have her way with me. and she shone lights into my eyes and I said, "Please, do not consume my innocent soul and descend into the hoary depths of the netherworld." and she said, "You're eyes are healthy Mr. Fleming. You can go."
and I did go. and I bumped into a lot of shit as I did. because I'd never had my eyes dilated before is why. and my wife had to drive.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Addiction
Guys... I may be addicted to Sudoku.
I'm definitely addicted to Reversi. I made peace with that a long time ago. But Sudoku...
I tried to say no for a long time. I steered away. I told myself, "All I need is Reversi. I don't need a different fix."
I used to convince myself that Reversi was not a gateway game; that being using it would not lead to other things. But who was I kidding. That's what I said about Checkers and Free Cell before that. My gaming track marks have grown tough to hide. There's a pile of dishes in my kitchen because I couldn't tear myself away from a Level 5 Sudoku last night. I was just experimenting, but now I want another hit. What am I gonna do?
Ok, enough of that. I've thrown in some pictures for you lookie-lous. I'm pretty happy with how these turned out. I'd say that there are more to come of this character, but really, how many times have you heard that one? That's what you get for trusting a game addict.
I'm definitely addicted to Reversi. I made peace with that a long time ago. But Sudoku...
I tried to say no for a long time. I steered away. I told myself, "All I need is Reversi. I don't need a different fix."
I used to convince myself that Reversi was not a gateway game; that being using it would not lead to other things. But who was I kidding. That's what I said about Checkers and Free Cell before that. My gaming track marks have grown tough to hide. There's a pile of dishes in my kitchen because I couldn't tear myself away from a Level 5 Sudoku last night. I was just experimenting, but now I want another hit. What am I gonna do?
Ok, enough of that. I've thrown in some pictures for you lookie-lous. I'm pretty happy with how these turned out. I'd say that there are more to come of this character, but really, how many times have you heard that one? That's what you get for trusting a game addict.
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
Why do I try?
You can't win with banks. Don't even try. Even if you are right and everyone knows you are right you will lose.
"Yes sir, Mr. Fleming, you are clearly right. But you are wrong."
See, I had just received a call from my credit card company. I paid them a lot of money. Well over the amount they asked for.
"Mr. Fleming," a heavily accented voice said. "Our records show your account is past due. You owe us $63.00. If you do not make a payment in the next 5 days we will have to report it to your Credit Bureau. If you would like I can take a payment of $63.00 for you now and waive the $9.00 service fee."
"Ok," I said, "But I'd rather pay $150.00."
This conversation actually took about five minutes because I couldn't friggin understand the guy and I kept having to ask him to repeat himself. Now people, please don't think that because I live in the south I am intollerant of different people. Quite the contrary. I am usually extremely tollerant of different people. I actually like differences. But sometimes I think banks and their ilk use the least understandable people they can find to f* you into screwing up.
Anyway, I paid $150 because I knew that I was over my credit limit, but I couldn't remember how much.
So time passed (about 3 seconds) and I suddenly had a bad feeling. So I called the exact number back that had just called me. But the number went to the Atlanta Diabetes Association. I called the number 3 times and every time it went to the ADA.
So then I started to freak out. I've been the victem of identity theft before. The last think I needed was to lose $150.00. So I called the main number for my credit card. Luckily for me they did have a record of the previous call and my payment. But as I'm trying to get off the phone with the lady, who is trying to tell me all of the wonderful services WaMu has to offer over the phone, including free rectal stretching, when she says, "Now, unfortunately, Mr. Fleming, your most recent payment will not be enough to make you current."
"What's that?" said I.
"My records indicate that your account is $156.23 over your limit. We do appreciate your payment of $150.00, but if you account is not made current in five days then we will have to charge you a $39.00 over draft fee."
"Well, why didn't you guys tell me that?"
"I'm telling you that, sir."
"Yes, I understand that. But I just got off the phone with a guy who said I only needed to pay $63.00. Now you are telling me that I needed to pay $156.00 to stay current. Why didn't he say that?"
"Sir, he was just calling to collect a payment."
"I understand that," I said with fake calm. "But just now you very politely informed me that my payment was $6.00 from being what you needed to avoid a charge of $40.00..."
"I said 39."
"Fine. So you told me that an extra 6 dollars would save me $39 in the future. Why didn't that guy give me the same polite advice? I would have paid the extra $6.00."
"Yes sir. But he wasn't calling to bring your account below the limit. He was just trying to get a payment."
"So he is not bound by good customer service practices?"
"I don't know sir."
"You are Washington Mutual. You are supposed to be the bank that doesn't want to nickel and dime it's customers."
"Sir, it is not our fault that you are overdrawn."
"I'm not saying it is. But wouldn't it have been good customer service for him to tell me I could save $39 by paying an extra $6?"
"I don't know, sir."
"You don't know? Fine," I said, relenting. "Is there any way we can resolve this?"
"How do you mean, sir?"
"I mean, can I make a payment for $6.00 now?"
"You will still owe 23 cents, sir. We'll still have to charge you an overdraft fee."
"Then can I make a payment for $7.00 now?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"We cannot process a new payment until the last payment has cleared."
"How long will that take?"
"It should only take about 4 to 5 business days."
"But you told me I have to be current in 5 days."
"Yes sir, you do."
I didn't say anything. I let that last bit linger, hoping for some realization.
"Sir," she said. "If you call back when your payment has cleared we can look at your account and determine if we can do anything else for you."
"So then I might be able to make a $6.23 cent payment to make my balance current?"
"Yes, but there will be a $9.00 service fee."
****
I f-ing hate banks.
"Yes sir, Mr. Fleming, you are clearly right. But you are wrong."
See, I had just received a call from my credit card company. I paid them a lot of money. Well over the amount they asked for.
"Mr. Fleming," a heavily accented voice said. "Our records show your account is past due. You owe us $63.00. If you do not make a payment in the next 5 days we will have to report it to your Credit Bureau. If you would like I can take a payment of $63.00 for you now and waive the $9.00 service fee."
"Ok," I said, "But I'd rather pay $150.00."
This conversation actually took about five minutes because I couldn't friggin understand the guy and I kept having to ask him to repeat himself. Now people, please don't think that because I live in the south I am intollerant of different people. Quite the contrary. I am usually extremely tollerant of different people. I actually like differences. But sometimes I think banks and their ilk use the least understandable people they can find to f* you into screwing up.
Anyway, I paid $150 because I knew that I was over my credit limit, but I couldn't remember how much.
So time passed (about 3 seconds) and I suddenly had a bad feeling. So I called the exact number back that had just called me. But the number went to the Atlanta Diabetes Association. I called the number 3 times and every time it went to the ADA.
So then I started to freak out. I've been the victem of identity theft before. The last think I needed was to lose $150.00. So I called the main number for my credit card. Luckily for me they did have a record of the previous call and my payment. But as I'm trying to get off the phone with the lady, who is trying to tell me all of the wonderful services WaMu has to offer over the phone, including free rectal stretching, when she says, "Now, unfortunately, Mr. Fleming, your most recent payment will not be enough to make you current."
"What's that?" said I.
"My records indicate that your account is $156.23 over your limit. We do appreciate your payment of $150.00, but if you account is not made current in five days then we will have to charge you a $39.00 over draft fee."
"Well, why didn't you guys tell me that?"
"I'm telling you that, sir."
"Yes, I understand that. But I just got off the phone with a guy who said I only needed to pay $63.00. Now you are telling me that I needed to pay $156.00 to stay current. Why didn't he say that?"
"Sir, he was just calling to collect a payment."
"I understand that," I said with fake calm. "But just now you very politely informed me that my payment was $6.00 from being what you needed to avoid a charge of $40.00..."
"I said 39."
"Fine. So you told me that an extra 6 dollars would save me $39 in the future. Why didn't that guy give me the same polite advice? I would have paid the extra $6.00."
"Yes sir. But he wasn't calling to bring your account below the limit. He was just trying to get a payment."
"So he is not bound by good customer service practices?"
"I don't know sir."
"You are Washington Mutual. You are supposed to be the bank that doesn't want to nickel and dime it's customers."
"Sir, it is not our fault that you are overdrawn."
"I'm not saying it is. But wouldn't it have been good customer service for him to tell me I could save $39 by paying an extra $6?"
"I don't know, sir."
"You don't know? Fine," I said, relenting. "Is there any way we can resolve this?"
"How do you mean, sir?"
"I mean, can I make a payment for $6.00 now?"
"You will still owe 23 cents, sir. We'll still have to charge you an overdraft fee."
"Then can I make a payment for $7.00 now?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"We cannot process a new payment until the last payment has cleared."
"How long will that take?"
"It should only take about 4 to 5 business days."
"But you told me I have to be current in 5 days."
"Yes sir, you do."
I didn't say anything. I let that last bit linger, hoping for some realization.
"Sir," she said. "If you call back when your payment has cleared we can look at your account and determine if we can do anything else for you."
"So then I might be able to make a $6.23 cent payment to make my balance current?"
"Yes, but there will be a $9.00 service fee."
****
I f-ing hate banks.
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
No Belt and I'm an idiot.
Ok, I forgot my friggin belt this morning. I hate that I actually care about this sort of thing. Because I really don't care and when I find out that I do care I have to ask myself, "Do I really care about this?" and I say, "No, of course not! It is inconsequential." Then I think, "But I do care."
I don't need a belt to hold my pants up. Mostly I care because I'm just enough over weight that my gut curls the waist-band of my pants down ever so slightly and draws attention to the fact that my pants really are a 32 waist and I really am a 34 (don't challenge me on that). A belt prevents that from happening and I can continue my day with the delusion that no one really notices that my pants are a bit too small.
And SCENE!
Ok, that was stupid.
Now for some reviews:
STINKY PEOPLE ON THE BUS:
B- if they sit somewhere else
D- if I can smell them
Purgatory (if they sit next to me.)
ok, we are in a drought, so I understand the desire to conserve water by skipping a shower or two, but that doesn't mean you can't spray some Right Guard under your pits.
TINY ASS BUS SEATS:
F!
let us be reasonable. I am a smallish kinda guy. there is no good reason that when I sit down and someone sits down next to me that this person should be in my lap.
let's face it, America is not overflowing with skinny people. the bus seat should comfortably accommodate a medium build.
SLOW BUS DRIVERS:
SHIT-
I'm not the kind of guy who hauls ass to the bus. I park my car. I make sure I have my ID badge and my briefcase. I make sure I have my bus money. then I get out of my car and walk a brisk pace to the bus. some people run as though this is their one opportunity to catch the only bus to Atlanta, and the bus behind that bus is going straight to the level of hell where the devil probes your anus with broken promises.
I don't see the point. however, I also don't see the reason why the bus behind the bus I just got on should pass my buss on the Interstate. or the buss behind that one.
WAY TOO MUCH COFFEE:
WHOOHOOMANIFEELLIKEICOULDDOANYTHINGTODAYI'MGONNA-
GETALLMYWORKDONETHISMORNINGANDGETSTARTEDONNEWPR-OJECTSANDFINISHTHOSEUPTOOANDTHENI'LLCOMEHOMEANDMO-WTHELAWNANDCLEANTHEDENANDDOTHEDISHESANDMAKEDIN-NERANDGIVEREBECCAABACKRUBANDPAINTTHEKIDSROOMSAND-DEVELOPMYOWNCOMPUTERSOFTWAREANDBUILDATELESCOPEA-
NDDISCVERPLANETXANDCUREAIDSCAUSEIKNOWICANDOITAND-
HOLYCRAPIHAVETOPEESOBAD!
MY TRIP THIS MORNING:
Purgatory F! Shit- soaked in pee!
***
So there I was, on the slowest bus in the world, with a smelly man sitting next to me, or more appropriately, slightly on top of me, and I had to pee like the world depended on it. I felt like the little dutch boy holding back the waters of the ocean. Only the little dutch boy wasn't also carrying a stinky man wrapped in tweed on his lap. The little dutch boy had it easy.
the combo of the agoraphobia, my excruciating need to urinate and the man stink sent me into a hallucination. I was flying over Atlanta with Superman on one side and Jesus on the other. They were maintaining the appropriate distance from me.
Superman said, "Do you guys smell jasmine?"
And Jesus said, "That's my BO. I'm trying to conserve water."
Then Superman said, "I've been told my farts smell like caramel apples."
To which Jesus said, "You've been lied to, son."
Then Jesus turns to me and says, "Michael, it's time to let go of that burden."
Suddenly I feel wet.
I SNAP AWAKE AND CLINCH EVERYTHING! A total muscle lock down. But was I fast enough? Without looking down I discretely brush my hand over the crotch area. But I can't tell if it's wet. I moved my hand to fast. I go a little slower, but it's still too fast to tell if I'm wet. I don't want to move my hand too slowly over my nethers and have people wondering if I'm playing with myself, or worse; make them think I have crabs. Finally I rest my hand on my crotch as though this was a completely normal thing that everyone does and nobody better dare say a thing about it.
I didn't feel anything. PHEW! I relaxed. Then I pissed all over myself.
The good news is that I didn't ruin my nice leather belt. Because I forgot to wear it.
***addendum***
Ok, so I didn't pee on myself. But that seemed far funnier to me than to describe how a little balding guy went running down Andrew Young Blvd holding himself like a rap star and crying: Get out of my way, slow lady!
I don't need a belt to hold my pants up. Mostly I care because I'm just enough over weight that my gut curls the waist-band of my pants down ever so slightly and draws attention to the fact that my pants really are a 32 waist and I really am a 34 (don't challenge me on that). A belt prevents that from happening and I can continue my day with the delusion that no one really notices that my pants are a bit too small.
And SCENE!
Ok, that was stupid.
Now for some reviews:
STINKY PEOPLE ON THE BUS:
B- if they sit somewhere else
D- if I can smell them
Purgatory (if they sit next to me.)
ok, we are in a drought, so I understand the desire to conserve water by skipping a shower or two, but that doesn't mean you can't spray some Right Guard under your pits.
TINY ASS BUS SEATS:
F!
let us be reasonable. I am a smallish kinda guy. there is no good reason that when I sit down and someone sits down next to me that this person should be in my lap.
let's face it, America is not overflowing with skinny people. the bus seat should comfortably accommodate a medium build.
SLOW BUS DRIVERS:
SHIT-
I'm not the kind of guy who hauls ass to the bus. I park my car. I make sure I have my ID badge and my briefcase. I make sure I have my bus money. then I get out of my car and walk a brisk pace to the bus. some people run as though this is their one opportunity to catch the only bus to Atlanta, and the bus behind that bus is going straight to the level of hell where the devil probes your anus with broken promises.
I don't see the point. however, I also don't see the reason why the bus behind the bus I just got on should pass my buss on the Interstate. or the buss behind that one.
WAY TOO MUCH COFFEE:
WHOOHOOMANIFEELLIKEICOULDDOANYTHINGTODAYI'MGONNA-
GETALLMYWORKDONETHISMORNINGANDGETSTARTEDONNEWPR-OJECTSANDFINISHTHOSEUPTOOANDTHENI'LLCOMEHOMEANDMO-WTHELAWNANDCLEANTHEDENANDDOTHEDISHESANDMAKEDIN-NERANDGIVEREBECCAABACKRUBANDPAINTTHEKIDSROOMSAND-DEVELOPMYOWNCOMPUTERSOFTWAREANDBUILDATELESCOPEA-
NDDISCVERPLANETXANDCUREAIDSCAUSEIKNOWICANDOITAND-
HOLYCRAPIHAVETOPEESOBAD!
MY TRIP THIS MORNING:
Purgatory F! Shit- soaked in pee!
***
So there I was, on the slowest bus in the world, with a smelly man sitting next to me, or more appropriately, slightly on top of me, and I had to pee like the world depended on it. I felt like the little dutch boy holding back the waters of the ocean. Only the little dutch boy wasn't also carrying a stinky man wrapped in tweed on his lap. The little dutch boy had it easy.
the combo of the agoraphobia, my excruciating need to urinate and the man stink sent me into a hallucination. I was flying over Atlanta with Superman on one side and Jesus on the other. They were maintaining the appropriate distance from me.
Superman said, "Do you guys smell jasmine?"
And Jesus said, "That's my BO. I'm trying to conserve water."
Then Superman said, "I've been told my farts smell like caramel apples."
To which Jesus said, "You've been lied to, son."
Then Jesus turns to me and says, "Michael, it's time to let go of that burden."
Suddenly I feel wet.
I SNAP AWAKE AND CLINCH EVERYTHING! A total muscle lock down. But was I fast enough? Without looking down I discretely brush my hand over the crotch area. But I can't tell if it's wet. I moved my hand to fast. I go a little slower, but it's still too fast to tell if I'm wet. I don't want to move my hand too slowly over my nethers and have people wondering if I'm playing with myself, or worse; make them think I have crabs. Finally I rest my hand on my crotch as though this was a completely normal thing that everyone does and nobody better dare say a thing about it.
I didn't feel anything. PHEW! I relaxed. Then I pissed all over myself.
The good news is that I didn't ruin my nice leather belt. Because I forgot to wear it.
***addendum***
Ok, so I didn't pee on myself. But that seemed far funnier to me than to describe how a little balding guy went running down Andrew Young Blvd holding himself like a rap star and crying: Get out of my way, slow lady!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)