Why does Steve Jobs always wear the same, black, foe-turtle neck?

Feel the wrath, the fury of attack, from my squirrel army

If you ever meet that guy that plays Janitor on Scrubs, please ask him to call me. I'd like to rent his squirrel army sometime...

People underestimate the power of a squirrel army, let alone one single squirrel. Just this morning I saw a squirrel fight off a crow for some kitchen scraps out of my dumpster. Yeah, a nimbly-bimbly squirrel versus a large, winged bird. It's like an ornithologist's wet dream. It was awesome. Had I stuck around, I believe the fight would have ended in the squirrel losing an eye (but ultimately taking on a weathered, rugged, and pretty cool look with an eye patch, but that's another story), but in a counterattack, Mr. Crow would lose a leg and break a wing--soon falling victim to the juvenile squirrels, much like lion cubs in the safari--gnarly little creatures! Those squirrels will forever remember the last gasping "caw, caw" from the crow...

I can't wait to get a hold of that squirrel army.

I heart conference calls

My dearest conference call:

You are my foe and my savior. You host the hours of my day that are my own personal hell. My own road to perdition. I especially like the way you encourage people to think outside of a box, that's just inside a larger box--which in my imagination would also be inside a grocery bag. That's why I'm going to start getting people to think outside the bag.

You're only really thinking if you're thinking outside the bag. Otherwise you might just be another douche bag trying to "shift the paradigm by thinking outside the box." Don't be a douche bag unless you hail from douchelandia (look at a map).

Which brings me to my next point, are you thinking outside of the delivery van? That's some real fifth-dimension s%*&t. Well, they're saying my name, I'd better get back to thinking inside the box...

Under the Red flag

There's been many things in history that work in theory, but don't quite pan out. For instance, communism. Yep, that one definitely didn't quite work. Stallism, nope. Flying cars, well sort of, but not quite. And, in-office-fun day.

Yep, It's fun day. You know what that means.

There will be cupcakes (I hate cupcakes). There will be games a varying length and interest. There might not be any booze--DAMMIT. Several members of the group will enthusiastically lead us into what could potentially be hours of time spent not doing better things. And no, we don't have a Micheal Scott or a fire pit. At least one of us will disappear into a laptop, never being seen again for the day, and will inevitably be the winner in my eyes. With that said, we'll all hail the red flag today, not accomplish much work, and pretend to enjoy ourselves.

Note to self, influence fun day decision maker next quarter with at least one of the following ideas:

1) Find the Frosh - just like in Dayzed and Confused, we'd get Matthew McConaughey to dawn some facial hair and a stoner's accent and chase the junior staff around the office for a good hour, only to end in his embarrasment.

2) In-office-paint ball - This one speaks for itself. It would be sweet. Minutes of heart-pounding, adrenaline-pumping, non-stop-action. Plus we'd leave awesome battle scars of paint all over the office for days to help us remember this most-excellent fun day.

3) Superdrunk punk rock fun day - Every one would be required to take one shot of tequila for every 20 pounds that they weigh. Then we'd go down to the local punk rock club and circle-pit the day away.

4) Double Dare - Slime, a large hamster wheel, and endless obsticle courses setup throughout the office. Word!

An Open Letter to Brad Pitt

Dear Mr. Pitt,

I recently saw an interview with you and your wife. It detailed your philanthropic work with green housing, rebuilding New Orleans, ending poverty, AIDS in Africa, hunger and many others. Your ability to love children and take them into your family shows your willingness to give of yourself.

I think I speak for my fellow men when I say... PISS OFF

You're f***ing it up for the rest of us. Not only are you seemingly God's gift to women and I don't want to know how many times I was with a girl and she was imagining it was you trying feverishly to take off her bra, but you're a nice damn guy too. Come on man. It's not possible for you to get with every girl on the planet, just the hottest ones, so why don't you go ahead and tone it down a bit so the rest of us can get on our way. No one liked the kid in class who had all the answers and always brought brownies. Keep up that shit and you might find yourself getting pummelled by a bunch of middle-aged guys in La Jolla one day...

Sincerely,

John Doe

P.S. I loved Mr. and Mrs. Smith. I've watched it like 30 times. Did you do your own stunts?

I'm positive there's a negative side to this whole carbon neutral thing

Carbon neutral, green, environmentally friendly… blah, blah, blah. You hear these words tossed around these days like they mean something. You’ve got ex-Veeps telling you to be green and that the polar icecaps are going to melt while they fly around the world in expensive jets and roll up to auditoriums in stretch hummer limos.

I’m going to drop an eco-knowledge bomb on your asses… IT’S A SCAM!!!

Being green and helping the environment sounds great… if you’re LOADED! Buying carbon offsets like trees and such to make up for your “carbon footprint” isn’t cheap. You can buy tickets on expedia.com and click on over to a site that will “plant” trees in order to cancel out the dirtiness you toss in the air on your transcontinental jaunt. Have you ever seen these trees? Do you know they’re there/

If I buy a tree in the rainforest, can I visit said rainforest and built a treehouse in said tree? I seriously doubt it. It’s like the damn national star registry…

You can do little things to reduce your footprint and yes you can even make a difference, but until you see Al Gore rolling up to a speech in London on a bike after he just rowed his ass across the pacific it just doesn’t compute…

I love the environment, I hate pollution, but I can’t afford a zero-emission car and I have to get to work to live… I don’t hug trees, but I think I might have peed on one once. Does this make me a bad person? Al Gore says yes. President Bush says it doesn’t matter because there is no problem. I say…

PISS OFF

A Pirate's life for me...

With the upcoming release of the third installment of Pirates, we're bound to see a variety of movie goers sporting pirate attire. Be warned! These people all have different intentions for dressing up for the release of this movie. I've outlined some of these types of people below...

1) Child without a choice - Mom made the call. Feel sorry for this kid, he was forced to dress this way. He's likely dying inside.

2) The Faker - This guy's just looking to get some play with the awkward teenagers at his high school. Make fun of him!

3) The Fanatic - Yes, this person is obsessed, likely swashbuckling a sword, and does not take kindly to criticism.

4) The Shithead - These guys are funny, but can get old. They dress up to spite the Fanatics. Make a derogatory statement towards a Fanatic and blame it on a shithead. the entertainment that awaits you is better than HBO.

Please, feel free to add to this list of species...

Fear and Loathing everywhere but Las Vegas

"We can't stay here long, this is bat country..." Or at least we can't keep one single meeting scheduled for a consistent time. Fucking dinosaurs, man! We need to talk to our lawyer. Maybe a simple reschedule is no reason to go ape shit, but right now it's approaching that point.

American Idol or Idiot?

Why are we so obsessed with Idol? Is it the cunning wit of Simon Cowell or the lush(ious) bantering of Miss Abdual? Perhaps the constant drool pouring from the mouth of the "big dawg" Randy Jackson? Or we could take a contestant approach. What the hell is so damn interesting about these people. I have to say, they might be talented, but no more than any other stage performer at the state fair (sorry Weird Al). One of them even looks like Shrek (yes, she does, look at her proportions).

There's nothing wrong with really getting into a TV show. But when you have to read about that TV show in the paper every Wednesday and Thursday morning, it starts to get old. Maybe they should bring Sanjiya back to make a mochery of this Brittish-imported show, or better yet his Mom with the shady record...

2013: The Year of the Reunion Show

TV Show Reunion Plots

2013 will be the year of the reunion show. I’m calling it right now. Here are a couple reunion shows I’d like to see…

Heroes

It’s 2013. Heroes are no longer looked at as mutants and the world is at peace. Then, a new super-breed of Heroes comes to the surface, their powers: sexy! The fembot-esque ladies roll around the world on a whirlwind, grindhouse style deathmarch filled with bikinis, broken noses and bloodshed. It all ends when Hiro teleports to the year 2013, acts like a loveable little Asian guy and saves the world or was it the cheerleader? Ah fuck it.

One Tree Hill

After a long run on the WB (and later the CW) the kids from One Tree left, went to college and have now magically all congregated back in town as young adults. This reunion show brings the gang back together for Peyton and Lucas’ wedding. Mouth, now in law school blows into town to find that Haley and Nathan’s daughter, now 4 years old has been abducted by the weirdo that was stalking Peyton. In a twist Brooke Davis is actually now Brooke Davis-Scott after she married Lucas and Nathan’s father Dan. Both Lucas and Nathan try to cope with the fact that they slept with their mother. Deb and Karen kept with their business and are now a legal couple in the eyes of North Carolina. Whitie is represented as a basketball that talks to Lucas.

How I Met Your Mother

In the reunion episode titled “How Your Mother Met the Pool Boy” a surly Bob Saget begins narration by belching and tossing a whiskey bottle at his kid who is clearly not listening. The story begins with Ted and his wife (name being withheld until appropriate time) moving into their new house, two babies in tow. Marshall and Lilly show up with a housewarming present that involves heavy drinking since they’ve been married for 6 years and have discovered the peace and serenity found only at the bottom of a tequila bottle. Loveable Barney (Neil Patrick Harris) makes a short appearance (at this time his billing rate will be $598,000 per “suit up” and with CBS near bankrupt in the year 2013 they have to watch the purse strings. The episode concludes with the introduction of their step mother, you guessed it, Robin Sherbatzky. The episode ends with a quasi-gay line from Barney to the pool boy. The line trails, but I think it’s “jimmy suit up Pablo…” weird.

It's Monday; Suit Up!

You heard it, Suit Up!

I'm so happy this day is over, I think I just crapped my pants a little.

Goboldy Gooo!

DAYQUIL! It's a wonderful thing. It freshens the day, rejuvenates the spirits, opens your eyes, fills your head with air--fuck you blue man, you ain't even got feet--and just plain makes you feel good.

If I'm ever to be reincarnated as a pharmaceutical, I hope I'm DayQuil. It makes you feel wonderful. Plus, I bet NiQuil is a fox in the sac...

What's in a name?

When I was a freshman at WSU we had to learn the founding fathers of our fraternity.

Alberg, Anderson, Bayer, Bertrand, Bervin, Case, Cliat, Cook, Dielenberg, Ermi, Felt, Fischer, Gormley, Greninger, Hardy, Harris, Howell, Jackson, Majestic, McDougal, McIrvin, Plumb, Poole, Prater, Reese, Robertson, Ross, Snell, Stone, Tartalia, Wagge, Weinstein, Winnier, Woodcock

I still remember them...

What is it that makes you remember names like that? People F-up my last name all the time, but I guess it's not exactly spelled how it sounds.

So, in honor of the founding fathers, I've come up with a list of potential last names, should I ever change mine..

• Woodsmen - Strong to quite strong name. Definitely let's people know you mean business.
• Majestic - While it was one of our founding fathers' names, I think it's, well, majestic.
• America - Who wouldn't want to have their last name also be their country?
• De La _______ - Basically throw a word in the blank and you're set. (De la Hoya, De La Renta)
• Steel - Put any name in front of this last name and you've got a great combination or a miraculous porn name.
• Rockwell - Norman had the name to get him into the game. It let's everyone know what you're here to do.

I encourage you to come up with aliases for yourself in your spare time. You never know when you might need to start answering to Ron Honcho...

Peace be with you

Murder the early morning!

It's 5:09 a.m. and the sound of Gwen Staffani is ringing in my alarm clock. Screw her.

There's no traffic on the road, but it smells like garbage in the parking lot.

The scurry of crack heads on Madison is ramped.

I just fell asleep a little at my keyboard. Let's kill this morning!

When Mexico got even with America

You'd be hard pressed to not find reasons why Mexico might not have the best things to say about America. Let's see, we export cheap labor to their nation, we hoard the best spots of their country for our own private, all-inclusive vacation resorts, and oh yeah, we put up a giant fence up and said no entry--I'm sure they really loved that one.

But one day I believe Mexico (or Mehico as I like to say) thought up the grandest scheme of all to seek revenge. That plan is called Cinco de Mayo. It's important to know that this is a Mexican holiday that really isn't celebrated that much in the land of 'don't drink the water.' But that's not what America likes to think.

As if we couldn't pack enough into the Fourth of July, we had to lunge over into our neighboring country's holiday calendar. Here's where the revenge comes in. The plan: import lots of tequila and various other booze, make everyone think it's a day that celebrates the independence of Mehico (it's not), and then on the day following when everyone is really hungover, that's when the border jump begins. Lather, rinse, and repeat. Until next year, here's hoping you had a good Mexican Independence day!

Are we drinking the Koolaide?

Are we followers of Jimmy Jones, knowingly drinking our own Koolaide? While working on a project earlier this morning I asked myself this question. Have we started buying what we've been selling all along? I've noticed in recent days I've quit doubting any of my objectives and just started powering towards the light at the end of the tunnel (maybe that's a good thing?). Whether or not we meet those objectives we'll see, but at least I'm not worried about it anymore--bring on the sleep deprivation and endless sermons!

In any work-related project, I think we need to stop and honestly ask ourselves if we're cutting in the Koolaide line. Are we cannibalizing our own sale? I think we might be... But, I suppose if the objectives are never really met, we'll have long since drank the sugary concoction and inevitably slipped into a mindless state before anyone shows up to complain.

Now all we need is our own small village in Africa. We'll call it jungle 206.

Thank every higher being it's Friday

Not just god. Every single deity on this small little planet we call Earth. The cow, Buddha, Ala, you name it, thank it. It's Friday; celebrate. Get drizunk. Convince the boss to implement beer:30--please! This has been a really long week, for everyone, even that dude that holds a sign on the corner of 7th and Madison (he's been workin' it hard this week). Even the hookers down on first have been pulling OT. Damn. It really has been a rough week.

So please, find the nearest kneeling spot, wall of prayer, temple of heaven, pagoda, or various other portal to a higher power. Stroke your four-leaf clovers, hold your silver crusafix, waive your book of Mormon (grab the hands of your numerous wives), put your hands up and SHOUT!

It's Friday. I'm glad. I'm tired. Is this day over yet? Seacrest out!

I challenge you...

Anyone in the world... Lance Armstron, Tony Roma, Stone Cold Steve Austion, the Rock, Clive Owen, Burt Backarack, any one of you pussies...

Step up to the Shat and he will cooly, calmly and sexily dismiss your attack wit hthe care that he brings life to Rocket Man in spoken word.

Take that...

You should love cheeseburgers.

Served on a warm plate, dripping with cheese, nestled in a large nest of French fries. You're imagining it right now, I can tell. You're probably already salivating; figuring out a way to leave work and visit the drive-through.

You should go get a cheeseburger, right now. It's your dirty pleasure: you're heart is saying no, no, no, but your stomach is saying go, go, yes, yes.

Not tacos or sandwiches, CHEESEBURGERS. Go, now, fulfill your inner desire. Feed the carnivore inside of you. EAT MEAT! Have a steak while you're at it, with a side of ribs (that's what I had for lunch).

Do I need to say anything more?

I didn't think so.