Don't believe me, bitches? Look for the red exit sign in the entry between the horns section and the piano (the right-most one) See the red exit sign? Look to the right of that at the giant green blob dancing and clapping like a doofus. That's ME! I am indeed dancing in the dark trying to start a fire without a spark. During the times I'm not clapping along like a seal, I'm recording the song with my flip phone. Ohhh yeah I bet you're jealous. I would be too because flip phones are the shit.
The most magical moment is at 2:07 when Bruce turns to me and I wave at him and he waves back! HE WAVES BACK AT ME!!!! Or he could've possibly been waving at the guy with the Greetings From Asbury Park towel...but still pretty damn close and OMG I LOVE YOUTUBE AND TECHNOLOGY AND BEING ABLE TO RELISH IN THIS OTHERWISE EMBARRASSING DISCOVERY OF UTMOST BUFFOONERY!!!!11!11one
EDIT: If you feel ambitious enough to watch the whole video, at 3:29 Bruce encourages anarchy as he yells at crazed fans who had climbed on top of an island and started dancing and security was pushing them off. Bruce yells "Keep going! Don't pay any attention to that guy. Fuck him!" which I'm sure the security guy appreciated.
Wednesday, February 26, 2014
Saturday, February 22, 2014
Google Maps challenge!
We've all googled ourselves.
...
...Perverts.
We've all ran a search for our name through www.google.com. But that's so 2002. You should try to find yourselves on Google Maps! I found myself on both the street view AND the satellite view. ...Okay I found Cornelia. My car. Yes. I named my car. Problem?
Anyway here she is
at my then boyfriend's/now husband's/future crime-fighting partner's house. Obviously taken a long-ass time ago. Not obvious to you. Only obvious to me.
Uh and yes, I did give her a gender. She's a female. Problem?
And here she is
at my second home, AKA my job where I reside during the one third of my life when I'm not sleeping or sitting at home thinking about sleeping. No shocker that I found myself there. Not surprising, yet immensely depressing.
Your turn!
...
...Perverts.
We've all ran a search for our name through www.google.com. But that's so 2002. You should try to find yourselves on Google Maps! I found myself on both the street view AND the satellite view. ...Okay I found Cornelia. My car. Yes. I named my car. Problem?
Anyway here she is
at my then boyfriend's/now husband's/future crime-fighting partner's house. Obviously taken a long-ass time ago. Not obvious to you. Only obvious to me.
Uh and yes, I did give her a gender. She's a female. Problem?
And here she is
at my second home, AKA my job where I reside during the one third of my life when I'm not sleeping or sitting at home thinking about sleeping. No shocker that I found myself there. Not surprising, yet immensely depressing.
Your turn!
Saturday, February 8, 2014
Some reading material for the kiddos
Okay here's the truth. I have actually been waiting all day long to sit and write this blog. So after a long day of work and coming home only to wait even longer in the bathroom until the sound of the husband's snores shook the house, I was FINALLY able to get some time alone at the computer to type...and then I saw the bubble spinner game still open on one of my tabs. If I told you I closed out the tab and began blogging immediately, I'd be a dirty liar.
So here I am two hours later.
...Whatever, like you've never been addicted to anything in YOUR life because you're PERFECT!
In fact, addiction is one of my topics of discussion tonight as I introduce to you a small passion of mine: writing children's books! I've actually written two children's books in my life and have since ran out of material that's both engaging to children and not completely perverted. Today my inspiration was renewed through a few simple conversations that were exchanged at my place of work.
My manager, whom we will refer to as Bert because that's what I call him to his face and his peers and also because it's his name, and I were working in our stockroom when the following conversation occured:
Me: What's the point of making the fresh point pink if we don't get sent any pink stuff?
Bert: I think the people at the main office decide not to think about why a girl named Byrd questions everything they do.
As demeaning and unfunny as that sounds, this actually led to my uproarious and uncontrollable laughter to which Bert replied, "Uhhhh ohhh! There's the giggle!" and "Your face is getting red, Byrd!" and "Hahaha I'm pretty hilarious." and "I should do some stand-up." and "Maybe I can do some bits on the radio." and "Then maybe I can finally afford a furry steering wheel cover for my jeep."
As Bert was planning out his future in comedy stardom, a brilliant idea for a children's book was rapidly unfolding in my head and my amused laughter evolved into a maniacal cackle as I plotted for great success and possibly world domination. Or at least an award.
So without further ado, allow me to introduce the first book in my new collection:
The plot follows a young girl named Byrd who is plagued with a curious and rare birth defect resulting from her mother becoming too affectionate with her pet pigeon. Of course this abnormality renders Byrd an outcast and an undesirable friend for the human race...but what about the avian species? Read about Byrd's quest to find belonging among her feathered friends and find out what it takes to become the greatest day trader on Wall Street.
...Ohh! Bet you weren't expecting that plot twist! I'm not as predictable as all that. And speaking of unpredictable, check out my next book:
Yes, I decided to let Bert in on my success. I feel I owe it to him since he ignited the fire of inspiration, albeit accidentally not unlike the cow that started the Great Chicago Fire.
This charming book features Bert and Jeepy and their unlikely yet enduring companionship so strong that it makes his friends and family question his sexuality. This story teaches kids that it doesn't matter who (or what) you love as long as he or she (or it) loves you in return and that true love conquers all (or is pretty frickin' weird).
And notice there's no credit for illustrations. I gathered all these pictures from stock footage and Bert's facebook page.
And what was so "unpredictable" about that? Ha! Joke's on you! It's not unpredictable, but you were predicting me to tie that book into being unpredictable but I DIDN'T! And no, I'm not just saying that because I was too lazy to try to make a conne...look free donuts!
*runs off to play the bubble spinner game*
Three and a half hours later...
Man, I really needed that fix. Now maybe I'll get an hour of sleep in tonight.
Uhh oh yeah, my third book. This one was inspired by another catchy quip that my assistant manager, Danny K. uttered (or screamed) to one of my co-workers Kendra Core as she was slicing open a cardboard box with a sharp, scary blade of doom. (Actually I can't remember what she was doing, but it was apparently pretty dangerous. Anyway.)
This, of course, teaches kids the importance of safety through our protagonist who is always finding herself in near-death situations. It covers everything from loading a shotgun to responding to an ad on Craigslist. With all the fancy and distracting technology in this day and age, safety is essential for survival and must be taught at a very young age. Or your kids will die. Plain and simple. This book may save your child's life. So buy a copy for each child you have and read it to them every night before they go to bed. Yes, every night until the information is so far ingrained in their heads that they'll dream about it. Read it to them every night until they turn 18. And start reading it to them as early as conception. In fact, as soon as your man rolls off of you and promptly falls asleep, break that bad boy out and start reading it to your vagina. Studies have shown that reading this book to freshly released sperm increases their chances of safely traveling to the fallopian tube. If you give a crap about the future of our children, you'll buy this book and read it, love it and live it! ......as soon as I write it.
Okay last one!
This one covers a more somber topic, but no less prominent in a child's life: addiction! This book features the previous book's inspiration, Danny K. and his struggles with various addictions, from Red Bulls, alcohol, heroine, Candy Crush, porn, M&Ms, Duck Dynasty...the list goes on and on....much like an addiction! Hohohoh! The sad kids will like this one and hopefully it'll put a smile on their faces and make them forget, if only for a little while, about their meth-head mom pimping them out every weekend for her drug money.
Studies also show that exposing young children to topics like meth and pimping out will better prepare them for the real world and set them up for success!
I have no evidence to back this up. Just believe me.
Well there they are, folks, my pride and joy! I'll be sure to mention you faithful readers in my acceptance speech when I win the award for Best Children's Book Ever Written by a Non-Celebrity Female Under the Age of 27. I only have a few more months left to be eligible for that award so I better get to writing. ...Although Bubble Spinner looks mighty tempti--
So here I am two hours later.
...Whatever, like you've never been addicted to anything in YOUR life because you're PERFECT!
In fact, addiction is one of my topics of discussion tonight as I introduce to you a small passion of mine: writing children's books! I've actually written two children's books in my life and have since ran out of material that's both engaging to children and not completely perverted. Today my inspiration was renewed through a few simple conversations that were exchanged at my place of work.
My manager, whom we will refer to as Bert because that's what I call him to his face and his peers and also because it's his name, and I were working in our stockroom when the following conversation occured:
Me: What's the point of making the fresh point pink if we don't get sent any pink stuff?
Bert: I think the people at the main office decide not to think about why a girl named Byrd questions everything they do.
As demeaning and unfunny as that sounds, this actually led to my uproarious and uncontrollable laughter to which Bert replied, "Uhhhh ohhh! There's the giggle!" and "Your face is getting red, Byrd!" and "Hahaha I'm pretty hilarious." and "I should do some stand-up." and "Maybe I can do some bits on the radio." and "Then maybe I can finally afford a furry steering wheel cover for my jeep."
As Bert was planning out his future in comedy stardom, a brilliant idea for a children's book was rapidly unfolding in my head and my amused laughter evolved into a maniacal cackle as I plotted for great success and possibly world domination. Or at least an award.
So without further ado, allow me to introduce the first book in my new collection:
...Ohh! Bet you weren't expecting that plot twist! I'm not as predictable as all that. And speaking of unpredictable, check out my next book:
Yes, I decided to let Bert in on my success. I feel I owe it to him since he ignited the fire of inspiration, albeit accidentally not unlike the cow that started the Great Chicago Fire.
This charming book features Bert and Jeepy and their unlikely yet enduring companionship so strong that it makes his friends and family question his sexuality. This story teaches kids that it doesn't matter who (or what) you love as long as he or she (or it) loves you in return and that true love conquers all (or is pretty frickin' weird).
And notice there's no credit for illustrations. I gathered all these pictures from stock footage and Bert's facebook page.
And what was so "unpredictable" about that? Ha! Joke's on you! It's not unpredictable, but you were predicting me to tie that book into being unpredictable but I DIDN'T! And no, I'm not just saying that because I was too lazy to try to make a conne...look free donuts!
*runs off to play the bubble spinner game*
Three and a half hours later...
Man, I really needed that fix. Now maybe I'll get an hour of sleep in tonight.
Uhh oh yeah, my third book. This one was inspired by another catchy quip that my assistant manager, Danny K. uttered (or screamed) to one of my co-workers Kendra Core as she was slicing open a cardboard box with a sharp, scary blade of doom. (Actually I can't remember what she was doing, but it was apparently pretty dangerous. Anyway.)
This, of course, teaches kids the importance of safety through our protagonist who is always finding herself in near-death situations. It covers everything from loading a shotgun to responding to an ad on Craigslist. With all the fancy and distracting technology in this day and age, safety is essential for survival and must be taught at a very young age. Or your kids will die. Plain and simple. This book may save your child's life. So buy a copy for each child you have and read it to them every night before they go to bed. Yes, every night until the information is so far ingrained in their heads that they'll dream about it. Read it to them every night until they turn 18. And start reading it to them as early as conception. In fact, as soon as your man rolls off of you and promptly falls asleep, break that bad boy out and start reading it to your vagina. Studies have shown that reading this book to freshly released sperm increases their chances of safely traveling to the fallopian tube. If you give a crap about the future of our children, you'll buy this book and read it, love it and live it! ......as soon as I write it.
Okay last one!
This one covers a more somber topic, but no less prominent in a child's life: addiction! This book features the previous book's inspiration, Danny K. and his struggles with various addictions, from Red Bulls, alcohol, heroine, Candy Crush, porn, M&Ms, Duck Dynasty...the list goes on and on....much like an addiction! Hohohoh! The sad kids will like this one and hopefully it'll put a smile on their faces and make them forget, if only for a little while, about their meth-head mom pimping them out every weekend for her drug money.
Studies also show that exposing young children to topics like meth and pimping out will better prepare them for the real world and set them up for success!
I have no evidence to back this up. Just believe me.
Well there they are, folks, my pride and joy! I'll be sure to mention you faithful readers in my acceptance speech when I win the award for Best Children's Book Ever Written by a Non-Celebrity Female Under the Age of 27. I only have a few more months left to be eligible for that award so I better get to writing. ...Although Bubble Spinner looks mighty tempti--
Saturday, January 25, 2014
Confession Friday: Second Installment
Why, yes I AM aware that it's Saturday and not Friday, but dammit I don't want to wait another week to write horrible confessions! If it will ease your obsessive compulsiveness I'll refer to this edition to "Saturday Sins". Happy now?
1. I judge people who have atrocious grammar. Like "Oh that guy must not have gotten enough breast milk" or "Well she obviously grew up without a father" and sometimes "He must be from Nampa."
2. I don't and pretty much never have eaten cereal with milk because soggy cereal is the worst food consistency next to five week-old bananas. Yes, I have eaten a five week-old banana. Imagine a bowl of banana-flavored water-logged Cheerios with fruit flies buzzing up your nostrils.
3. There's a long corridor at my place of work and I will dive for the drinking fountain and take an unnecessary drink just to avoid having to awkwardly pass somebody. And depending on the timing of their walk down the hallway, I'll suck water for up to 45 seconds. I should just learn to say hello.
......,.Nah!! Besides I need water to survive.
That's all the shamefulness for this week. Enjoy your squishy Wheaties.
1. I judge people who have atrocious grammar. Like "Oh that guy must not have gotten enough breast milk" or "Well she obviously grew up without a father" and sometimes "He must be from Nampa."
2. I don't and pretty much never have eaten cereal with milk because soggy cereal is the worst food consistency next to five week-old bananas. Yes, I have eaten a five week-old banana. Imagine a bowl of banana-flavored water-logged Cheerios with fruit flies buzzing up your nostrils.
3. There's a long corridor at my place of work and I will dive for the drinking fountain and take an unnecessary drink just to avoid having to awkwardly pass somebody. And depending on the timing of their walk down the hallway, I'll suck water for up to 45 seconds. I should just learn to say hello.
......,.Nah!! Besides I need water to survive.
That's all the shamefulness for this week. Enjoy your squishy Wheaties.
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
2013: The Year That Was
Every New Year's Eve it seems I wait til the last possible minute to reflect on the past 365 days and by the time I come up with some profound recap of the year it's suddenly the next year and I have to start all over again. Well this year I only waited until the last possible hour so here is my first official reflection of the grand year of 2013!
I didn't die.
Thanks for reading!
Okay fine. I'll be a little more specific.
I didn't die and I still have my same car.
Happy New Year!!
What, you want MORE? Fine!!
Well, I honestly can't recall anything from the beginning of the year to about the middle of March. My life consisted of eating, working and planning my upcoming wedding. Pretty boring stuff.
Then came our trip to China. After stalking deals on Groupon, Adam stumbled upon a deal for a ten-day adventure to everybody's favorite communist country that we couldn't possibly pass up! Well, I guess we could've but then I wouldn't have been able to provide you these glorious pictures!
From top to bottom (Because any other order is just not practical):
1. Us hanging out with Mao at Tiananmen Square
2. Adam enjoying a delectable fried scorpion (we were on a bike tour; he doesn't always just wear a helmet around)
3. An upscale Chinese toilet AKA a squatty potty (BYOTP)
4. Lol phallic object
5. I guess I should put up a pic of us at the Great Wall to show you we did more than eat scorpions and use the bathrooms
6. Us gazing at the magnificence of the Terra Cotta Warriors exhibit before we were promptly crowded out by the other 1.1 billion people who wanted to see them
And moving on!
In April Adam received an acceptance letter from Boise State saying he had been accepted into the Graduate program. He then received another letter from them saying that he wasn't chosen for a fancy scholarship that would pay for his entire two years of grad school. He then received ANOTHER letter that basically said "Jk we do want you to have it. Lol love BSU." So hooray for free school!
In May I was stressed and frantic with my wedding a mere one month away and along comes a job opening for a promotion that I had been wanting for quite some time. I applied for it, interviewed and one glorious day received a phone call from my district manager who was calling to congratulate me on getting passed over and that the position was given to someone else.
...Adam also had a birthday that month.
So after that piece of disappointment pie, I bounced back and had an epic high school reunion followed by a bachelorette party that wasn't too shameful followed by...a massive hangover. Followed by a nervous morning during which I ate a bowl of Honey Bunches of Oats and watched like five episodes of Arrested Development which was of course followed by...
Of course our wedding was postponed because a certain somebody decided to forget the marriage license in our file cabinet at our house that was 14 miles away. Hohohohohoh *twitch*
A fancy honeymoon cruise to Alaska followed that and let me just say, we rocked that boat real good.
And we saw some bald eagles which was pretty cool.
Upon my return to work after the boat-rocking, bald eagle-filled honeymoon of delight, my manager marches up to me one morning and shakes my hand saying, "Congratulations!" "I got married like three weeks ago, doofus," I thought. He continued: "You got that promotion!" It seems an unforeseen series of events occurred in my place of work resulting in me getting that promotion I was initially denied. I suppose sloppy seconds is better than nothing at all. ...I'm not totally sure I even used the term "sloppy seconds" properly but...meh.
July was hot and weird as I transferred to my new store as a manager. I also managed not to get sunburned too badly.
In September, thanks to our good friend, Nathan, we got to miss out on the first half of a Penn and Teller show in Wendover. Thanks, Nathan! However we did get to get pictures with them.
And the rest of the year is kind of a blur to me. All I know is that I managed to lose 15 pounds and quit Facebook. Two great accomplishments if I do say so myself.
Well I hope I didn't make you guys jealous of my year. I'm sure yours was just as eventful and memorable as mine. And if it wasn't, in a few minutes you can get a head start on outdoing me. Good luck and may the best memory-maker win.
I didn't die.
Thanks for reading!
Okay fine. I'll be a little more specific.
I didn't die and I still have my same car.
Happy New Year!!
What, you want MORE? Fine!!
Well, I honestly can't recall anything from the beginning of the year to about the middle of March. My life consisted of eating, working and planning my upcoming wedding. Pretty boring stuff.
Then came our trip to China. After stalking deals on Groupon, Adam stumbled upon a deal for a ten-day adventure to everybody's favorite communist country that we couldn't possibly pass up! Well, I guess we could've but then I wouldn't have been able to provide you these glorious pictures!
1. Us hanging out with Mao at Tiananmen Square
2. Adam enjoying a delectable fried scorpion (we were on a bike tour; he doesn't always just wear a helmet around)
3. An upscale Chinese toilet AKA a squatty potty (BYOTP)
4. Lol phallic object
5. I guess I should put up a pic of us at the Great Wall to show you we did more than eat scorpions and use the bathrooms
6. Us gazing at the magnificence of the Terra Cotta Warriors exhibit before we were promptly crowded out by the other 1.1 billion people who wanted to see them
And moving on!
In April Adam received an acceptance letter from Boise State saying he had been accepted into the Graduate program. He then received another letter from them saying that he wasn't chosen for a fancy scholarship that would pay for his entire two years of grad school. He then received ANOTHER letter that basically said "Jk we do want you to have it. Lol love BSU." So hooray for free school!
In May I was stressed and frantic with my wedding a mere one month away and along comes a job opening for a promotion that I had been wanting for quite some time. I applied for it, interviewed and one glorious day received a phone call from my district manager who was calling to congratulate me on getting passed over and that the position was given to someone else.
...Adam also had a birthday that month.
So after that piece of disappointment pie, I bounced back and had an epic high school reunion followed by a bachelorette party that wasn't too shameful followed by...a massive hangover. Followed by a nervous morning during which I ate a bowl of Honey Bunches of Oats and watched like five episodes of Arrested Development which was of course followed by...
Of course our wedding was postponed because a certain somebody decided to forget the marriage license in our file cabinet at our house that was 14 miles away. Hohohohohoh *twitch*
A fancy honeymoon cruise to Alaska followed that and let me just say, we rocked that boat real good.
And we saw some bald eagles which was pretty cool.
Upon my return to work after the boat-rocking, bald eagle-filled honeymoon of delight, my manager marches up to me one morning and shakes my hand saying, "Congratulations!" "I got married like three weeks ago, doofus," I thought. He continued: "You got that promotion!" It seems an unforeseen series of events occurred in my place of work resulting in me getting that promotion I was initially denied. I suppose sloppy seconds is better than nothing at all. ...I'm not totally sure I even used the term "sloppy seconds" properly but...meh.
July was hot and weird as I transferred to my new store as a manager. I also managed not to get sunburned too badly.
In September, thanks to our good friend, Nathan, we got to miss out on the first half of a Penn and Teller show in Wendover. Thanks, Nathan! However we did get to get pictures with them.
And the rest of the year is kind of a blur to me. All I know is that I managed to lose 15 pounds and quit Facebook. Two great accomplishments if I do say so myself.
Well I hope I didn't make you guys jealous of my year. I'm sure yours was just as eventful and memorable as mine. And if it wasn't, in a few minutes you can get a head start on outdoing me. Good luck and may the best memory-maker win.
Friday, December 13, 2013
Confession Friday: First Installment
Hello.
I've decided to make a segment on everybody's favorite day of the week in which I admit to horribly embarrassing things that will hopefully entertain you and appreciate my flaws. And hopefully not hate me. Or turn me in to the police.
I'll start with just a few this week. Also I probably won't be doing this every Friday. Trust me, I have plenty of material, I just have something else going on besides this blog. Perhaps you've herard if it... A life. It involves me working a job and going outdoors. Yeah, it's really time consuming and frankly I'd rather not do it. But! I gots to pay mah billz.
Well then, let's confess things.
-I haven't shaved my legs in about five weeks and they look very sasquatchy.
-When I was a wee child I didn't want to poot in the cold because I thought it would show up as a cloud like your breath does. I never found out if that's even false so I still try not to do it in the cold. Who wants to have a poot cloud billowing out of their pants for everyone to see? Not me!
-This is probably the ninth or tenth Friday since I decided to start a Confession Friday. I've just been too lazy/self-conscious of what to share. (Awwww)
-I'm currently typing this while sitting on the toilet. Like I went to pee and thought "This would make a good Confession Friday confession if I typed the whole thing from here. I should really start up with that because who knows when the next Friday is going to come."
And that's all for this week. I'm going to get up and wipe and flush.
I've decided to make a segment on everybody's favorite day of the week in which I admit to horribly embarrassing things that will hopefully entertain you and appreciate my flaws. And hopefully not hate me. Or turn me in to the police.
I'll start with just a few this week. Also I probably won't be doing this every Friday. Trust me, I have plenty of material, I just have something else going on besides this blog. Perhaps you've herard if it... A life. It involves me working a job and going outdoors. Yeah, it's really time consuming and frankly I'd rather not do it. But! I gots to pay mah billz.
Well then, let's confess things.
-I haven't shaved my legs in about five weeks and they look very sasquatchy.
-When I was a wee child I didn't want to poot in the cold because I thought it would show up as a cloud like your breath does. I never found out if that's even false so I still try not to do it in the cold. Who wants to have a poot cloud billowing out of their pants for everyone to see? Not me!
-This is probably the ninth or tenth Friday since I decided to start a Confession Friday. I've just been too lazy/self-conscious of what to share. (Awwww)
-I'm currently typing this while sitting on the toilet. Like I went to pee and thought "This would make a good Confession Friday confession if I typed the whole thing from here. I should really start up with that because who knows when the next Friday is going to come."
And that's all for this week. I'm going to get up and wipe and flush.
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
My Douchey Weekend
Douchebags are everywhere. They cut us off in traffic. They throw beer bottles in our recycle bins. They take forty minutes to order a Starbucks coffee. On a daily basis, we experience some form of doucheyness. The great American Benjamin Franklin once said, "In this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes and douchebags." There is simply no avoiding the douchebaggery of the world. Even if you secluded yourself in a bunker in the Himalayas, you will still experience the ripple effect of a douchebag somewhere.
This last weekend I experienced more than my fair share of douchebaggy douchebags. I experienced about two and a half month's worth in 48 hours. But today's story focuses on the doucheiest douchebag I had the unfortunate opportunity to cross douchey paths with.
I know what you're thinking. The Packers have no chance at the playoffs this year.
I know what else you're thinking. You think that because I work in retail I probably encountered this King Douche there, where I was forced to be nice and enabling to his doucheyness and where I had to accommodate his every stupid douchey need. This is a legitimate assumption as I have had to bow to many a douchebag during my tenure at my job, but this particular douchebag was found elsewhere: the gym.
The gym. The Mecca of the douchebag community. Where all walks of douchebaggy life congregate to show off, hog machines and spread douchey sweat all over the seats and handlebars of your favorite equipment. And this is only to name a few annoyances.
Like many, when I go to the gym I stick to a routine. Part of my routine involves what's called "The Circuit". The Circuit is probably the most rudimentary demonstration of rules and courtesy. It's a series of machines that are circled up, numbered and sectioned off from the rest of the machinery with rope not unlike a crime scene. You begin at the first machine (#1) and when you're done, you move onto the second machine (#2). When you are done with the second machine, you move onto...fucking easy right? And if that wasn't ridiculously self-explanatory, there are pictures, charts and signs ALL OVER this area so nobody can possibly ignore the rules. Gym owners even posted these signs in two languages: English and Douchebag.
I mean really, the only ways you could possibly ignore these rules would be if you were legally blind or, you guessed it...
A DOUCHEBAG!
So here I am on machine #7 of The Circuit following the route like everybody else when in comes Uber Douche. I could tell this guy was a douchebag from the minute I saw him. First off, he walked right past the first four machines and parked his douchebag ass on some random one and starts his douchey reps. But this only annoyed me at best. I figured as long as he wasn't getting in the way of my routine and holding me up, he is allowed to be a douchebag. Although since he was right across from my machine, I was drawn to his obnoxious douchebag tye-dye Raiders shirt. I couldn't focus on anything else. All I saw was
So I divert my eyes to keep from getting motion sickness by pretending to be enthralled with my iPod. After a few moments, I look up to notice the douchebag was gone...only to find that he moved to the machine right next to mine! At the point the annoyance sparks into fury. He cut right in front of me! I calm myself thinking "I have one more set to do and maybe he will leave when he sees I'm finished and need to use that machine next."
But little did I realize, I was dealing with a SUPREME DOUCHEBAG!
Any normal person with an ounce of courtesy in their nostril hair would have seen me get up and stand next to the machine, quickly get off and apologize for their inconsideration, beg for forgiveness and leave my sight bowing the entire way out. Or at least get a fucking clue. But no! This guy? Completely ignores me as I stand about two feet in front of him. Waiting. Glaring. Amongst the twelve gazillion signs in both English and Douchebag saying not to do exactly what he was doing!
Actual security camera footage of the moment:
So Uber Douche continued his fifty reps of crunches, keeping his head down to avoid my douchebag laser eyes. Every time he would rest between his douchebag sets, he turned around in his sweaty douchebag seat and hollered over to the most unluckiest being on the planet: his offspring. "How you doin' son? You making me proud?" he yelled over his shoulder to a scrawnier, shorter version of his douchebag self.
"I'm doing great, Dad!" replied the sad sack child as douchebaggery ran through his veins like the AIDS virus.
When he ran out of things to bellow to his kid, Uber Douche would look over his other shoulder and watch the middle aged women on the stair steppers - anything, really, to keep from acknowledging that I caught him in an act of utmost douchebagdom.
Eventually, he finished his douchebag workout and walked off his machine, leaving a glossy stain of douchebg sweat on the cushions. I caught my reflection in it. I looked at my face in the mirror of douchebag back sweat and thought, "Well, at least I'm not like him."
So I'm here to share with you the moral of my tragic tale: there are douchebags all over the place. They're everywhere. Even though we can't change them, we can keep ourselves from becoming just like them. We can stop the evil chain of douchebaggery with ourselves. Nobody is born a douchebag, not even Uber Douche's spawn. They allow other douchebags to establish behavioral norms and set these ridiculous standards. But we can stop ourselves from becoming douchebags ourselves by recognizing when we're being rude, when we're being selfish and when we realize that we're making more people angry than happy. It can't be easy being a douchebag, being hated by everybody and having scathing criticisms written about them in blogs. But we can rise above the douche. If we are all polite, act kindly and treat everyone with respect but only one douchebag is forever changed by seeing all the goodness around him, I would still be satisfied.
Brought to you by The Foundation for a Douchebag Free World
This last weekend I experienced more than my fair share of douchebaggy douchebags. I experienced about two and a half month's worth in 48 hours. But today's story focuses on the doucheiest douchebag I had the unfortunate opportunity to cross douchey paths with.
I know what you're thinking. The Packers have no chance at the playoffs this year.
I know what else you're thinking. You think that because I work in retail I probably encountered this King Douche there, where I was forced to be nice and enabling to his doucheyness and where I had to accommodate his every stupid douchey need. This is a legitimate assumption as I have had to bow to many a douchebag during my tenure at my job, but this particular douchebag was found elsewhere: the gym.
The gym. The Mecca of the douchebag community. Where all walks of douchebaggy life congregate to show off, hog machines and spread douchey sweat all over the seats and handlebars of your favorite equipment. And this is only to name a few annoyances.
Like many, when I go to the gym I stick to a routine. Part of my routine involves what's called "The Circuit". The Circuit is probably the most rudimentary demonstration of rules and courtesy. It's a series of machines that are circled up, numbered and sectioned off from the rest of the machinery with rope not unlike a crime scene. You begin at the first machine (#1) and when you're done, you move onto the second machine (#2). When you are done with the second machine, you move onto...fucking easy right? And if that wasn't ridiculously self-explanatory, there are pictures, charts and signs ALL OVER this area so nobody can possibly ignore the rules. Gym owners even posted these signs in two languages: English and Douchebag.
I mean really, the only ways you could possibly ignore these rules would be if you were legally blind or, you guessed it...
A DOUCHEBAG!
So here I am on machine #7 of The Circuit following the route like everybody else when in comes Uber Douche. I could tell this guy was a douchebag from the minute I saw him. First off, he walked right past the first four machines and parked his douchebag ass on some random one and starts his douchey reps. But this only annoyed me at best. I figured as long as he wasn't getting in the way of my routine and holding me up, he is allowed to be a douchebag. Although since he was right across from my machine, I was drawn to his obnoxious douchebag tye-dye Raiders shirt. I couldn't focus on anything else. All I saw was
So I divert my eyes to keep from getting motion sickness by pretending to be enthralled with my iPod. After a few moments, I look up to notice the douchebag was gone...only to find that he moved to the machine right next to mine! At the point the annoyance sparks into fury. He cut right in front of me! I calm myself thinking "I have one more set to do and maybe he will leave when he sees I'm finished and need to use that machine next."
But little did I realize, I was dealing with a SUPREME DOUCHEBAG!
Any normal person with an ounce of courtesy in their nostril hair would have seen me get up and stand next to the machine, quickly get off and apologize for their inconsideration, beg for forgiveness and leave my sight bowing the entire way out. Or at least get a fucking clue. But no! This guy? Completely ignores me as I stand about two feet in front of him. Waiting. Glaring. Amongst the twelve gazillion signs in both English and Douchebag saying not to do exactly what he was doing!
Actual security camera footage of the moment:
So Uber Douche continued his fifty reps of crunches, keeping his head down to avoid my douchebag laser eyes. Every time he would rest between his douchebag sets, he turned around in his sweaty douchebag seat and hollered over to the most unluckiest being on the planet: his offspring. "How you doin' son? You making me proud?" he yelled over his shoulder to a scrawnier, shorter version of his douchebag self.
"I'm doing great, Dad!" replied the sad sack child as douchebaggery ran through his veins like the AIDS virus.
When he ran out of things to bellow to his kid, Uber Douche would look over his other shoulder and watch the middle aged women on the stair steppers - anything, really, to keep from acknowledging that I caught him in an act of utmost douchebagdom.
Eventually, he finished his douchebag workout and walked off his machine, leaving a glossy stain of douchebg sweat on the cushions. I caught my reflection in it. I looked at my face in the mirror of douchebag back sweat and thought, "Well, at least I'm not like him."
So I'm here to share with you the moral of my tragic tale: there are douchebags all over the place. They're everywhere. Even though we can't change them, we can keep ourselves from becoming just like them. We can stop the evil chain of douchebaggery with ourselves. Nobody is born a douchebag, not even Uber Douche's spawn. They allow other douchebags to establish behavioral norms and set these ridiculous standards. But we can stop ourselves from becoming douchebags ourselves by recognizing when we're being rude, when we're being selfish and when we realize that we're making more people angry than happy. It can't be easy being a douchebag, being hated by everybody and having scathing criticisms written about them in blogs. But we can rise above the douche. If we are all polite, act kindly and treat everyone with respect but only one douchebag is forever changed by seeing all the goodness around him, I would still be satisfied.
Brought to you by The Foundation for a Douchebag Free World
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