More Bad Language.

I've never really liked the expression ‘buzz word’.  And ‘buzz word’ is kind of a buzz word in itself.   Honestly, fuck any snooty word that works on multiple levels like that.  You may think that I would like that kind of thing, but, surprisingly, I don’t.  You know who likes buzz words, and saying “buzz word”?  The same people that say Happy Tuesday (see: Celebrate Good Times? Come On).  These can sometimes be the same people that say ‘[BLANK] is in the hoOOoouuuuse’.  Sometimes they may say ‘hizzle’ or ‘heezie’.    Sometimes they even go the extra mile and shorten it to ‘hiz’, as in “Douchebag in the hizzz.”

Honestly, if anyone follows any type of ‘shizzle’, ‘hizzle’ or ‘drizzle’ with ‘my nizzle’, I’m pretty sure it’s illegal not to kick them in the nuts and/or muff (unfortunately, even hermaphrodites are sometimes guilty of this) and then run over their foot with a motor scooter (for increased humiliation).  The same goes for ‘da bomb’, ‘dope’, ‘fresh’ or ‘tight’.

Yes, I do realize that often times these expressions are spoken in an attempt at ironic humor, like “check me out, I’m lame, it’s so lame that it’s funny”.  It’s not.  That angle is played.  So played.

These are the same people that do ‘air quotes’.

If you don’t stop them now, they will keep repeating these atrocities the way that modern restaurants repeat the word chipotle.

“The Chipotle Pizza is prepared with a blend of chipotled chiplote cheeses and generously topped with chipotlish chipotles of chipotley chipotle.  The chipotle sauce, is to chipotle for.”

I think you are starting to understand the type of people and expressions that I mean.  Almost everything that people like this will say, should not be said.  Watch an episode of 'Jersey Shore' and you'll get what I am saying.  Scratch that, please don't watch an episode of 'Jersey Shore'.  And anyways, I have discussed these types of expressions and people previously (see: Bad Language).  At that time, however, I really only scratched the surface.

The following is a continuation, an addendum if you will, of a couple more things to absolutely never say anymore, and to discourage everyone else in the universe from ever saying.  These tend to be said by anyone and everyone, not just people that look to Snooki as the voice of their generation.  So read carefully, take note, and prepare to make some changes.

Foodie.

I don’t understand why this has become so popular, and how it has managed to propagate and become so widely used.  The first time that I heard it, I assumed it was some kind of group of people with a weird sex fetish.  You know people that like to bang each other with strap on submarine sandwiches or make love to a pizza bagel or something?  But no, it’s people who just like food, and feel that they like it enough that, somehow, they need to distinguish themselves from the rest of us, who also like food.

Is this where we’re at?  Making up creative names to categorize us for qualities that come naturally to every human / animal / organism?  How shitty is the non-eating section of your life that you’re defining yourself by something that we all do, innately, for survival?

“I love eating, I’m a Foodie.”
“Oh well, I like food too, so, doesn’t that make me a Foodie too?”
“NO!  I WANT TO BE SPECIAL! I NEED TO BE SPECIAL! YOU’RE NOT SPECIAL LIKE ME!”

I got news for you, we all like food.  You’re not special.  Honestly, what’s next?

“I’m an Airy.  I don’t know what I would do without breathing.  I mean, I just can’t live without my air.”
“Yeah… that sort of goes for all of us.”
“No, but I’m special, I know a lot about breathing.  More than you.  I know where the best air in the city is.  By the way, I’m a Watery too.”
“Yeah, so’s my cat.  He peepees and poopoos in a box.”

In the end, it kind of seems like a more friendly way to describe people with a food addiction.  Although, calling a fat person a Foodie sounds sort of mean, doesn't it?  Does this mean we should call a sex addict a Sexy?

“Roger needed to go get some help, he checked himself into a Sexy Facility.”

Sign me up.  Or maybe it is more about the level of knowledge that they have.

“Roger has the biggest porn collection I’ve ever seen!  What a Sexy!”

I like taking dumps.  And I could talk about poop for hours.  Maybe I should be a Dumpy, or a Poopy.  But alas, as fun as making up bullshit titles for ourselves clearly is, we need to put a stop to it now, before this gets out of hand.  Sorry Foodies, it’s time to find a new special talent, and to stop using that word.

While we’re at it, let’s completely stop trying to make random snappy expressions by adding ‘Y’ or ‘IE’ to words.  What are we, five fucking years old?!?!?!

“She’s my Besty!”
“Hey, guess what?  You’re the fucking Worsty.”

The most offensive ‘IE’ word out is when people deliciously call premature babies ‘PREEMIES’.  Is it supposed to make it sound cuter?  Well, it sounds gross, and frankly, I feel like it downplays the whole situation quite a bit.  No offense to all the Preemies out there.  Also, it rhymes with ‘creamy’, and somehow, that’s really fucked up to me.

I think the original hip and cool ‘IE’ word was ‘Hippies’, and seriously, don’t we all just hate hippies?  Not just for the smell, but because they’re awful?  So why follow that blueprint?

In conclusion, fuck you, self proclaimed Foodies.

But before I close the topic of these so-called food experts, for the love of God, everyone stop saying ‘Fast-Casual’.  It’s fast food.  Just because it costs more and looks nicer, doesn’t change what it is.  It is food, given to you fast, that you eat fast.  Afterwards, you feel shame (and a little bit of pre-diarrhea tummy rumbling).  That’s fast food.

It is what it is.

Of all of the ‘non statements’ out there, “it is what it is” is by far the most vague and useless.  It is applicable in virtually any situation, and yet, brings absolutely nothing to the table.  Why not say “it isn’t what it isn’t”? Or “it does what it does”? Or “it schnooblers what it schnooblers”?

The same people that over use “it is what it is” also seem to flock to the expression “that being said”, which is another choice ‘non statement’.  I call these ‘non statements’ because you could replace them in the conversation with complete silence or even with a mild, possibly nervous, fart, and pretty much have the same impact.

“I know it sucks, but, it is what it is.”
VS.
“I know it sucks, but… [squeeeeeeeeeeeeee]…”

No difference to the listener.  Except smell.  If anything, the nervous fart has more impact.

“They sure do use the word ‘chipotle’ a lot.  That being said, the Chipotle Pizza is delicious.”
VS.
“They sure do use the word ‘chipotle’ a lot… [squeeeeeeewawawawawpwent]…  The Chipotle Pizza is delicious.”

It actually feels more from the heart, with that big ol’ mild and nervous fart*.

So, join me in boycotting these expressions.  If we continue to work on ourselves, and avoid such annoying expressions, eventually, we may be able to all unite together as one gigantic happy family.  Someday, one day…  That being said, I don’t see it happening anytime soon.  It is what it is.

That’s it.  I'm late for my Foodie tour of the city!

*: from ‘Highway 10 Revisted: The Musical’

Time of the Signs.

"Hey everybody!  It’s Mindy’s birthday on Tuesday, so we will be passing around a card for all of you to sign!  Then we’ll have a mandatory lunch time party on Tuesday!  It’s not actually mandatory, but if you don’t go, people will just correctly assume that you’re an asshole!  And everyone will awkwardly sing Happy Birthday to someone that they don’t really know anything about!  Except that her name is Mindy!  It will ruin your usual lunch time routine of eating alone in the parking lot!  And there will be one random guy who’s really into it!"

Alright, so I’m exaggerating quite a bit.  And to be honest, I don’t mind the forced socialization and the free shitty cake.  I think what really pisses me off is the passed around group card.  You know the kind with the lame joke and the cheesy picture?

Depending on when you get the card, it can be annoying for different reasons.  If you’re the first to get the card, unfortunately, you know that you’re setting the bar for everyone else.  You’re declaring the emotional tone, the level of jokiness and the overall desired length of each individual message.  Suddenly you have become the blueprint for how everyone else is supposed to feel about Mindy.  You’re a Mindy barometer, and you don’t even know what she fucking does at the company.

You may even sign the card and then realize at the party that you were thinking of someone else.  Plus, no matter what you do, you know everyone who gets the card after you is going to read your message.

“Did you guys see what Johnson wrote?  What does that even mean?”

Getting it last isn’t much good either, because all of the good standard messages are used up, which doesn't really matter because there’s no space left to write an actual message anyways.  You end up writing “YAY” and signing a shortened version of your name, followed by a little smiley face, if space permits.  And now Mindy thinks that you don’t care.

Which you don’t, but you’d hate for her to find that out based on a group card.

If you get the card somewhere in between first and last, there is usually room to write something, but as I have said, all of the standard messages are used up.  You read through everyone else’s to get ideas, and end up judging them, like you feared you would be judged.  And like future signers of the card will do unto you.

“Adam wrote ‘loose’ instead of ‘lose’?  Who still does that?”

Alright, enough of that, you need to get back to figuring out what to write, Mr. Grammar Police.

“Let’s see, I’ll put Happy Birthday Sue… wait… shit no, that’s been done already, ok… how about Best Wishes?  … Damn!  Carl already wrote that, I fucking hate Carl.”

You contemplate scratching off Carl’s name and writing your own, but somehow, you feel like you would get found out. You would, and the consequences would be severe.  Well, maybe not severe, but you might not get cake, and that’s probably not a risk that you want to take.  So you rack your brains trying to figure out something short and sweet.  And it sucks. 

Let’s face it, eventually everyone just starts randomly slapping words together in a nonsensical way, just so that it doesn’t say exactly what the others say, but still conveys the same general message.

“All the best” – Steve

“Nothing but the best” – Jimbo

“Mostly I wanna say, hey, take some best” – Amanda

“Good luck with all things best forever wishing you the best ‘n shit” – Jennifer

“I CANNOT BELIEVE ALL THE BEST THINGS I WISH ON YOU!” – Carl

Amidst the confusion it’s only a matter of time before someone forgets what the card is actually for, signs the wrong thing, crosses it off and then tries to make up for it.

“Sorry for your loss Get ready for all my best wishes coming your way” – Shawn

Shawn should have stuck to his guns.  At least it would have been original. 

Rather than go through all of this torment, why not just think “Seriously, who gives a shit?” and just write the same thing as someone else.  Do you honestly think that the person is going to get the card and go C.S.I. on it?  Original Vegas, not Miami or whatever? Also, original cast?

“Well Jeremy and Cassandra both wrote the same thing, and, when I brought the card into the lab, clearly, Jeremy’s ink was fresher, wetter, guiltier, thus making him the plagiarizer.  Alert the press.”

“Great work, Grissom!”

Why write anything anyways?  The card already says what we all want to say.  Does anyone get the card and think “well Happy Birthday is clearly printed on the inside and the cover page, but I should probably wait and see what everyone wrote on the inside to gauge what the card is really all about”?

Someone should just write “from everyone” and be done with it, even if it’s one of those ‘BLANK INSIDE’ cards.  No, especially if it’s one of those ‘BLANK INSIDE’ cards.  Fuck it.  They know why we’re here.

“It’s your birthday, here’s a card.”

“It doesn't even say anything.”

“It’s from all of us.”

That would probably more accurately depict what we all think of each other in an office setting anyways.

I’d like to see someone get fired on their birthday, and be thrown a going away party disguised as a birthday, and they only find out when they start reading the card.

“Oh thanks everyone!  What a lovely birthday party!”

“OPEN THE CARD!”

“It says… You’ll be missed… ??? …  good luck for the future… ???? What the-”

“The wrapped present box actually just contains all of the belongings from your desk.  Security will escort you out immediately.”

“Can I have some cake?”

“No, I’m sorry, it’s for employees only.”

Have you ever accidentally not signed a card that everyone else in the office has signed?  And when you see the person reading that card in front of everyone, their eyes slowly going through the signatures, you can somehow feel what they are thinking? 

“Bill… CHECK… Chris… CHECK… [insert your name here]… Oddly absent from the card, and yet, there they are, eating cake, joining in.  Watching.  Laughing.”

At this point, you might even try some kind of covert operation to get the card back before they leave for the day.

“Say Mindy, do you mind if I see that card?”

“Why? The messages in it are meant for me.”

“Yeah but you know everyone reads them as it goes around the office anyways so-”

“I trust people not to do that.”

“Well that’s dumb, look, can I fucking see it now?”

“I already know that you didn’t sign it, and that’s why you’re holding that pen.  You’re too late.  The jig is up.”

Maybe it wasn’t that covert after all.  And as everyone’s suspicious whispers begin to grow louder, you jump out the window and throw your two weeks notice at the boss on your way out, written in chocolate frosting on a paper airplane napkin.

“It’s been real.  I’m out.  PEACE!”

In the end, I suggest just finding a really original way to sign your name, and leave it at that.  Just a signature.  It’s even better if you get it carved into a custom stamp and use an ink-pad to stamp your mark on future joint cards.  It will give you a mysterious edge at work, which will work to your advantage when there is only one donut left in the breakroom, and you are face to face with the overweight guy from sales. 

Behind him, the receptionist offers him a word of advice.

“Dude, I’d let him have it.  He doesn’t even write messages in cards, who can honestly tell what he’s capable of.”

Answer: no one.  But seriously, it had those toasty coconut sprinkles.  It was a big win for me.

That’s it.  There’s no more room left on the card.

Hairy Situations.

Hair is a complex entity. When it comes right down to it, there is really only one place that we consistently like to encounter hair: on our heads. Whether on the body, off the body, on the head, or wherever, hair is generally a tremendous pain in the ass. That being said, there are places that are, hands down, the worst places to find hair. Allow me to guide you through this hairy hall of shame. 

On the Body. 

You will have to forgive me, in advance, for my somewhat gender biased approach to body hair and the unfortunate places that one might come across said hair. I am coming from the point of view of a male humanoid, but, please know that, I do agree that women have it way worse when it comes to hair. Oh sure, the male species may, in general, have more of it, but for women, unfortunately, nearly everywhere that hair naturally grows is frowned upon and looked at as undesirable. 

We have brainwashed our entire civilization to assume that any hair found on women, other than on the head, should immediately be dealt with in an excruciatingly painful way. We have to train ourselves to see a hairy lady as a beautiful natural beast. Unfortunately, as it is, we see a hairy lady, and we assume troglodyte. Is that fair to the dirty stinky unhygienic she-ogre? 

No. 

Armpit hair, leg hair, bikini zone, arm hair… The amount of time and effort that women have to put into the hair on their body is ridiculous. Everything is judged with a fine tooth comb (no pun intended). That being said, allow me to navigate you through what I feel to be the worst places to find hair, on the body. If you are a woman, multiply any of these by a million, in terms of annoyance and grief factor, and burn your bra. 

3) Unibrow 

There’s a fine line between a regular human and a Neanderthal. That fine line is the line that connects two eyebrows together, forming one solid Unibrow. There is a small window of people that can pull off this look, people like Bert (of Bert and Ernie fame). Unless you are Bert, you will most likely need to take care of it. I suggest an awful routine of tear inducing plucking, followed by a healthy dose of cursing your hairy parents, and their furry brows. 

Try to stick to only plucking the connection between the two individual eyebrows. Once you start trying to play God and shape your eyebrows into something new and enticing, you run the risk of overdoing it and reducing your eyebrows down to a ghoulish penciled in line (even worse if it literally is penciled in with some kind of makeup marker and there actually is no hair left), causing a perpetual look of confusion and intrigue. This will look far worse than the initial Unibrow, and will likely send you to jail, should you ever be part of a police lineup. 

“Definitely, Number 3, just look at those pencil-thin eyebrows and that permanently guilty expression.” 

“What about Number 2?” 

“What the guy with the solid line over his eyes? Unibrow? No way, he looks like he collects stamps.”

“Bert, you’re free to go.” 

2) Hobbit Feet 

If foot hair somehow miraculously made a person more desirable to the opposite sex, then maybe there would be some case to argue that hairy feet and toes could be a positive physical trait. Unfortunately, this is not the reality that we live in. And really, would you want to be with someone who was into foot hair? Sexually? 

You might think that hairy feet would stay warm. You would be dead wrong. My hairy feet are constantly freezing cold, and yet somehow, ridiculously moist and sweaty throughout most of the day. Some might want to blame bad circulation for my cold and smelly feet, but I know better. It’s that damn hair. 

After an entire day of wearing socks, the foot hair actually hurts, kind of like when you wear a baseball cap all day, and then it hurts to move your head hair. And forget about comfortably wearing sandals and flip flops. The hair gets pulled at, and, you have to survive mountains of clever and amusing insults, such as 

“Hey, what’s it like living in the Shire?” or 

“Don’t eat me, ogre!!!!”, 

rendering your confidence to an abnormally low level. I can’t even imagine what a hairy-footed lady must have to endure. And the skin on the top of the foot is so thin that trying any kind of hair removal would basically be torture. I don’t recommend torture, so, as a result, it is a constant struggle to decide which is indeed the lesser of two evils: being seen with socks and sandals, or showing off your hairy hooves. 

Since stupid science is not yet advanced enough to offer hairy feet people with the option to amputate and replace their feet with sexy smooth robot feet, I’m afraid my only advice is to keep them covered up, until science catches up. Once they do, though, I’m totally paying extra to have guns and rockets put on mine. Science and Mattel still haven’t delivered the Hover Boards that were promised to us by Back to the Future II, but I feel that my eventual jet-powered rocket feet (complete with guns and racing stripes) will more than make up for it. 

For the record, I am not talking about one or two cute little hairs sticking out of one toe-knuckle, or a couple of little strays on the top of the foot. I am talking about a thick concentrated jungle of hair completely connected to the leg hair, creating one uniform and continuous river of fur flowing all the way from crotch to toes. 

1) Nose Hair 

If nose hair would just stick to its primary function and remain hidden within the nostril, it wouldn’t find itself in the top spot. Alas, nose hair frequently ventures out of its home searching for dust and dirt with which to form the finest of snots. Often times, it brings a booger with it on its journey out of the nostril rim, indifferent to how poorly this will reflect on you, during your one-on-one meeting with your manager. 

After giving your two weeks’ notice, on your way home from the office, should you decide to pluck the stray nose hair, you will be rewarded with pain, watery eyes, and the high possibility of forming a dreaded inside-the-nose zit. Also, you’re holding a nose hair, which looks like some kind of mutant insect leg. 

Each of these painstaking battles with your nose hair is part of a lifelong war, and honestly, if you look at any elderly person, it is quite clear that it is a war that the nose hair will inevitably win. 

Eventually you will give up, and over time you will become nothing more than a filthy bouquet of nose hair, with a face around it. 

I say, embrace it now, and let them go hog wild. 

On the Body - Honorable Mentions: 

Back & Shoulder Hair – care for a banana? 

Ass Hair – wiping just got a whole lot harder! 

Ear Hair – what is that constant rustling sound! 

Knuckle Hair – I repeat, care for a banana? 

Facial Hair – let’s face it, shaving sucks! 

Genital Hair – no explanation necessary! 

Off the Body. 

Now, as offensive and repugnant as unwanted body hair may be, it pales in comparison to finding hair anywhere off of the body. In this case, man, woman, child, or Wookie, we are all in the same nasty hairy boat. 

3) Foreign Shower Stranger Danger 

When you step into a hotel shower, often times, it has been thoroughly cleaned and disinfected, so you likely will not encounter any wild hairs. I’m pretty sure if you find one, you can complain and get free breakfast out of it. Seems fair. 

The showers that contain the most offensive wild hairs are shared showers that, unlike hotels, are not washed in between visitors.  These are the showers at friends' or relatives' houses, public showers like in a gym, or, even your own shower, if you happen to share it with people that you do not also make sex on (in some cases, the stray hairs of your partner in sexy sex may still disgust you, especially when it is time to wipe that hair catcher drain thing clean - don’t worry, your secret is safe with me). 

When faced with this foreign shower stranger danger, there are few ways to help cope. Latex gloves will allow you to touch things such as the shower curtain or faucets without risk of making contact with a hair. Bring your own soap. Because, Lord knows, when a wild hair attaches itself to a soap bar, there is no way of removing it without getting on your skin. 

Because the walls may in fact be lined with nasty long or short hairs, you may want to consider wearing some kind of rubber footwear to protect yourself from runaway hairs that could potentially graze your feet on their wishy washy way down to the drain. Shower caps will do in a pinch. You can also wear a full body wetsuit, but it is harder to get that deep down clean you might be looking for, and I keep getting fucking shampoo in the snorkel! 

The only sure way to avoid all icky shower hairs is to simply not shower. 

I will leave it up to you to decide which is worse: have a bad smell day, or risk touching rabid, loose, possibly diseased, wild hairs. The choice is yours. 

2) Secret Ingredient 

I think we all can agree that food is a pretty bad place to find a hair. There are different levels of severity when it comes to food hair, and what we are talking about here is known as the Secret Ingredient. This is when the hair is mixed deep down into the food, like in the center of your mashed potato pile, or mixed right into your marinara sauce. 

Not to be confused with the Secret Garnish (a.k.a. The Parsley), which is when a hair is gingerly perched atop your salad, rice or steak, the Secret Ingredient is far worse because you can't even attempt to pick it out, as you only find out about it when it is halfway down your throat. 

There really is no advice I can give you, except, if it is a restaurant, the rule is, never go back to said restaurant. If you cause a big enough scene, you might get free breakfast out of it, in which case, feel free to break the rule and go back, because, shit, free breakfast! 

If it is the hair of someone you know, who has just cooked a meal for you, kill this person. Don't worry, they'll never convict you. 

“I plead guilty, but seriously, it was a six incher mixed right into my spaghetti!” 

“Bert, you’re free to go.” 

1) Special Seat Sprinkles - Hair to the Throne

You’re running towards the washroom, number one, number two, either / or, it doesn’t matter, but you need to get there and get things started, stat! You arrive ready to unleash the fury when something catches your eye and interrupts your mojo. 

There’s a pube sprinkled on the seat / bowl / urinal / place one does their business. 

So, a few observations here, how does a hair like this get there? Is there someone who ejects or explodes pubes from their pants as soon as they unzip, like some sort of pube based firework display? Is it actually a head hair, and if so, what is the person’s head doing so close to the pee and/or poo zone? Was there some furious wiping that caused some bum hair shedding? Who looks at the bowl on their way out, sees a bunch of their hairs and decides, “Hey, I’ll leave it for the next visitor”? 

An asshole, that’s who. 

The best way to deal with this problem is to always go to the washroom armed with matches, so that you can light fire to the suspect hairs. As an added bonus, it will warm up the seat on those frosty winter morns. Also, it could help with the smell factor, if needed. 

If you are looking to be inconspicuous, I would say use a regular matchbook, found in most restaurants and bars. If, like me, you are afraid that the short match size might allow the hair to touch you while burning, I suggest those really long wooden matches normally used to light fire to the logs in a fireplace. It is not recommended, however, to attempt to light any logs that you may have dropped in th bowl, they are not made of wood, and will not catch fire. 

If you are scared of burning yourself, I suggest you use a leaf blower. 

Off the body - Honorable Mentions: 

Your Cubicle – someone’s been sleeping in my bed! 

Treadmill – I bet it’s sweaty too! It is! 

Seat on the Bus – I wonder where it’s going! Answer, your face!

Stuck to the T.V. – I knew that wasn't part of the show! 

The Wall – seriously, how the fuck did that get there, and how is it staying there? 

I think these are just some of the many reasons why anytime you hear about futuristic alien societies coming to visit crazy rural folk, they are hairless, smooth and shiny. I think all intelligent beings will just eventually evolve themselves out of having hair. We, as a race, just aren’t there yet, which is probably why the aliens never stick around. They get off the Mothership and are like “ewww, there’s fucking hair everywhere here, lets bail.” 

That’s it. I need to go draw myself some eyebrows.

Writer's Block, Vol. IV.

There I am behind a bumper with a bumper sticker on it that reads “HONK if you like musicals”. I have already declared a hatred for anything stupid to do with automobiles (see: Stupid is as Stupid Drives), but there’s just something even more special about this one. Now, no matter the massive amount of honks and cries coming from fellow road travelers, this person gets to drive like an asshole, and carry on ignorant and happy, like a child who just shit his pants during brunch at Applebee's. Did I honk at them when they cut me off? 

Absolutely, I did. 

Do I worry that instead of thinking “Oh curse my awful driving, I may have just pulled some asshole-ish maneuver just now, here in mine vehicle, at the expense of this fine specimen of wonderful driving”, he actually thought, “Oh man, I wonder which is his favorite. Me? Oh I’m an Andrew Lloyd Webber man, as far as I am concerned it just don’t get no better than Phantom, except maybe Grease”? 

Even more absolutely, I do.

If Lloyd Webber fan is so damn passionate about musicals, then they need to get a bumper sticker that will make it a little bit easier to distinguish who is honking at them because of their elderly-blind-person driving abilities versus who is honking because they've seen ‘Cats’ forty times and touches themselves to visions of Mister Mistoffelees shoving his tail up their ass. I suggest changing it to something like “Give three brief honks, followed by one long honk, if you like musicals”. Also, depending on the rhythm and panache with which the person carries out this specialty honk, Captain Bumper Sticker can even measure just how musical this other driver is.

Maybe if there is a good enough honk, they can both pull over and break into song together. And that will give me the opportunity to run my car into their heads and/or brains.

Once I passed by the driver, I gave them the obligatory evil glare, and to my delight, it was not an old Asian lady like we all generally assume it to be when we notice someone driving like a four-year-old on the bumper cars at Canobie Lake Park, but a young student eating a breakfast burrito with his big fucking sunglasses on. Hooray world, for proving me wrong.

While I was glancing at Studious Burrito I ran my car into the back of a Ford Focus, being driven by an old Asian lady. Hooray world, for your delicious irony.

No, not really. But these are the exciting scenarios that run through my brain when I should be either focusing on the road, or on the work that I am supposed to be doing this very moment. 

Maybe it’s just the fact that the mornings are darker and it’s harder to wake up. The nights are brighter, so I stay up later, and that makes the mornings even darker, and even more impossible. But, regardless, please take the damn bumper stickers off of your car, or please go and drive your car off a cliff. Whether or not you are in it as it travels off of said cliff, is entirely up to you. I will trust you to do the right thing.

That’s it. I've got to go watch re-runs of ‘Glee’.

Express Yourself, Again.

While I have previously discussed the idea of awesome expressions that disappear (see: Express Yourself), I don’t feel like I have even scratched the surface of the world of slang, be it good or bad.  Please follow along with me, as I list some more words and expressions and explain why we need to work together to bring them back into circulation.

!) Bad.

I miss being able to say something is bad, to mean that it is good.  At some point someone thought bad-ass just made more sense, I guess.  Instead of “that’s a bad skateboard you got” it became “that’s a bad-ass skateboard you got”. Why?  What is this need to add 'ass' to everything.  Don’t we have enough 'ass' as it is (feel free to add whatever mental picture you want, whether it’s some Kardashian, a parade of Biggest Loser contestants, or some reality show about sexy people)?  Bad was doing just fine on its own, sans 'ass'.  This tends to happen with lots of words though.  Cheap becomes cheap-ass, lame is lame-ass and so on and so forth.  Drop the 'ass' act people. 

On a side note, do you think it was Michael Jackson that made everyone uncomfortable and in turn made it no longer cool to call something bad?  Too soon?

@) Bumblast.

On the topic of ass, we used to often employ the term bumblast.  Now it was generally used in derogatory schoolyard conversations attached to a lot of the other homophobic insults hat were thrown about so hastily back then and perhaps that was why it disappeared.  The homophobia needs to stay gone, but it is a shame, really, that we weren't able to hold on to 'bumblast'.  Because, rather than use this in a way like “oh yeah, well you and Max like to bumblast each other all night long” we could simply use it in a more adult conversation.

“I’m into anal.”

That doesn’t sound too appealing at all.  It sounds all icky and scientific.

“I’m into BUMBLASTING.”

Hell yes – sign me up, like a rocket to the moon! Now that sounds like fun.

#) Sucks the bag.

When something really sucks, we used to say that it 'sucks the bag'.  It’s brilliant because it leaves it up to you the listener to decide what kind of bag it actually is, what is contained within the bag, and how you would go about successfully sucking on it.  Is it the bag itself, or what is contained within the bag?  So many questions... If you have ever heard Louis CK’s routine about sucking a bag of dicks, you’ll understand the gist of what I am saying here.

How could we have let this one fade away? 

$) Poser.

I think poser died along with the grunge movement and the word ‘shaft’.  Essentially it means the same thing as phoney, but it just feels more insulting, doesn’t it?  I understood why ‘whigger’ died, because frankly, it is offensive on numerous levels, but poser is so wholesome and real.  There is something to be said about an insult that sounds so gentle and yet calls to question a person’s entire existence.

“Nice hat, poser.”

It’s like weenie (see: Weenie Roast) or party pooper.  It may sound wholesome, but no one wants to be one.

%) Japanimation.

At some point this became Anime, and personally I don’t think that it has the same ring to it, at all.  Japanimation doesn’t sound nerdy or dorky, it just sounds like exactly what it is.  It's fun to say, unlike Anime (pronounced like a Spanish word or something... what the fuck) or Manga or stupid words like that sound like something off of the periodic table of the elements, which in turn, makes them sound even nerdier and thus even lamer.  Maybe I just exposed my nerdiness by referring to the elements, but whatever.  At least I don’t watch Anime.  I watch Japanimation.

There are tons more trash talking words that I can think of that don’t get the airtime that they used to, like dickwad, shit for brains or numbnuts.  While I won’t get into every one of them here, do your best to revive cool old insults, expressions and slang.  Start with the ones I have discussed, but then, come up with your own list of forgotten gems that we can all work on together as one harmonious society.

That’s it.  I’ve got a big-ass headache.

It's Business Time.

It creeps up on you, real quiet like.  At first you think maybe it’s nothing.  It will pass.  But you’re starting to re-think the insane amount of peanuts that you ate after your peanut butter sandwich lunch.  It’s not creeping anymore, it’s attacking, and it’s gnawing at your insides.  It’s time.  You need to take a dump at work.

First things first, change to your spare pair of shoes.  What you don’t have a spare pair at work?  Well you should.  Not just because bathrooms are gross, but also, if someone walks into the bathroom while you’re halfway through a wretched fart, they won’t be able to recognize you by your shoes.  They’ll spend the rest of their day trying to find the mystery shoes, but you will have hidden them safely away in your drawer / briefcase / pants.

Now that you’re wearing your poop shoes, you can set out to the bathroom, just as soon as you prepare your entertainment.  As long as you are away from your desk and dumping, you might as well make a little spa relaxation time out of it.  Cell phones are popular for their gaming, but be sure it has a nice silent touch screen.  Loud clicky buttons are a dead giveaway for any eavesdroppers, sorry Mr. Blackberry, but we all hear you in there, and we are all disgusted.  Shit, I bought an iPhone just because I knew it would allow for silent gaming while pinching a loaf at work.  Even though we all play cell phone games while pooping, it’s one of those don’t ask don’t tell things.  We all do it, kind of like not washing up after peeing… wait, what?  Oh and be discrete, and turn off the sound.  

Don’t bring a magazine or book, because someone might spot it and ask you where you are going.  Magazines and books are reserved for the home edition.

Some people take entertainment free dumps.  They just sit there and will the crap to happen with the power of their mind.  I commend these warriors for their exceptional bowel prowess and deep thinking capabilities.  That’s like running on a treadmill without an iPod.

Now, you’ve made it to the bathroom, and it’s empty.  So you can make a run for the stall of your choice.  Try and get a nice corner stall.  Makes for a bit more reverb, and you can only have, at most, one neighbour.  If there is already an occupied stall (multi-stall unit), then it is your call whether or not to press on.  If it was me, I would turn around, and try again later, although, at times there is no time for that.  It is a personal choice.

Make sure you lock the stall and try the door before you drop trou and have a good sit.  The last thing that you want is to be so focused on ‘Angry Birds’ that you fail to realize that the door has swung open and you sit, exposed, cell phone in hand, poopy in bowl.  At which point you would have to quit, move and change your name, which can be rather expensive.  This can be especially dangerous if the stall faces the door to the outside where the water cooler is.  “Does that really ever happen?”, you may ask yourself.  Yes.  One hundred percent yes.  If you could only see the single tear running down my cheek as I write this.  Learn from my failures, folks.

Now, with all locks checked, you sit.  Commence. 

When sitting in the stall, doing your duty (doody?), and there is someone else in there with you, you may feel the need to clench up and refrain from making any sound.  This timid behaviour is not abnormal, but can be rather unhealthy for the ol’ colon, most doctors agree.  ‘The Icebreaker’ is a manoeuvre I came up with that you should always keep in mind.  It is when you or the stranger lets out a little fart, just to let the other know that, it’s ok, and no one here is judging.  Once you hear a fart response, you know what it means: “Go ahead pardner, let’er rip”. 

If neither of you make any noise, because no one wants to ‘speak’ first, you could end up sitting on the can for hours, in some kind of bizarre Mexican standoff, which would be fine if the pins and needles in your damn legs would go away.  Avoid all of this, by being an ‘Icebreaker’, pay it forward, karma.  Do unto others as you would, you know, all that shit.

Now that it is happening, there are some things you should remember.

Don’t talk to yourself, ever.  Not ever. I once heard a guy clearly say, “oh my god” with a certain groaning tone in his voice.  I wish that I could go back to a time and life before having heard it, but I can’t.  Don’t be that guy (or gal).  And yes, grunts count.  You shouldn’t have to push so hard, certainly not while at work.  Start looking into getting more fiber in that diet of yours, Groany McAwfulstein.

Don’t talk to other people either.  If it is illegal to talk on the phone while driving, it certainly should be so while pooping.  Even if its hands free, I doubt anyone wants to know that your free hands are potentially wiping your ass.  That's one conference call you don't want to be a part of.

“Hey, Bill, could you mute your phone?  Why are you breathing so heavily?”

“What can I say, I guess I’m just really into this shit.”

Also, people that talk from the stall to anyone else in the bathroom should be fired.  Or there should be a button you can press that sucks them down into the toilet and ejects them out of some chimney somewhere.  What?  It comes with a parachute, in this fantasy world, in my mind.

"I tried to tell my wife that her creamed corn does this to me every time, but she jus-"
-EJECTOR BUTTON-
"AAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh..."

I understand that some people need to cover the toilet with a layer of toilet paper, or use one of those toilet seat prophylactics.  I get it.  You don’t want someone’s butt cooties.  But if that’s the case, be sure to dispose of your bullet proof vest along with your dung.  Preferably in separate flushes to avoid clogs, which I will discuss below.  Last thing, about that extra protection, don’t be that freak that wraps the entire toilet like some kind of mummy or cocoon, and then leave it behind.  Seriously, what the fuck? I feel like I’m in a science fiction movie and the CHUDS or Ghoulies are going to be birthed out of this thing.

And throw in a courtesy flush whenever necessary, even when you are alone.  It’s good to keep the bowl fresh, and the air as light as possible.

Always flush the nuggets prior to placing any toilet paper in the toilet.  Regardless of its size or girth, the last thing that you will want is an at work clog, which would cause you to quit, move and change your name, which can be rather expensive.  If you eat excessive amounts of cheese and are known for rather solid logs, perhaps bringing a pocket knife would help, as you could break it up into pieces to avoid any problems.  The Swiss army knife scissors are usually pretty effective.  You be the judge.  Although public toilets tend to have tremendous strength, honestly, if it looks too big to go down smooth, it just may be.

I know, you may be thinking that I have crossed some kind of line, but I’ve never caused a clog, nor been responsible for the perpetration of poopy water all over the bathroom floor.  Save your judging for someone who deserves it, like those responsible for ‘puddles’, ‘leftovers’ or ‘poopseat’.  Those are the careless people that live with an overall disregard for anyone else’s well being.  It’s not like I use that same paring knife to cut my snack cucumbers. You should be thanking me. 

Once successful flushing has been achieved, it will be time to make a break for the sinks.  Obviously wait until the place is empty before exiting the stall.  The walk of shame from the stall to the sink is an especially long one if it turns out the president of the company is in the bathroom.  Even more so if the muggy, thick air acts like a punch in his smug, presidential face.  He probably doesn’t even have to poop, he probably has a servant that extracts it from him and turns into pot pourri (poori?).  Why is he in my bathroom anyways?  Doesn’t he have some golden toilet somewhere that massages his ass while he sits on it and spits out money for every turd he squeezes out?

Not that this has happened to me or anything, twice, at the job I quit last year.

If you really are worried about run-ins with co-workers or bosses, remember the three keys of real estate: location, location and location.  Try and go to a different floor if possible or even, a different building if your schedule permits.  For example, maybe there’s a great McDonalds down the street.  Also the cheap cheeseburgers can often help induce labour, if you have been having trouble lately.  Just be sure to allow enough time to get there.  While most work place poops are photo finishes, you want to be sure you make it to the finish line, or else you will definitely have to quit, and move, and change your name, and that can be rather expensive.  First you'd have to change your pants.

Look, I know this is an awful lot to take in, but if you don’t feel like you can follow these simple guidelines, then maybe you need to find a job that you can do from home.  Or just be unemployed.  Or just hold it in.

That’s it.  I got to stand up and wipe (that’s right, STAND… see: Panel of Judges).

Weenie Roast.

As hard as you can try, eventually you will find yourself in a position where you look like a weenie, or feel like a weenie, or are just acting like a total weenie.  It can creep up on you and come at you unexpectedly, or, at times, you can see it coming from a mile away.  Some people are just total weenies all the time, and to those people, I apologize.  There is little that I can do for you.  For the rest of us occasional weenies, I will try and help you navigate the road of life avoiding the obstacles that can obstruct your overall coolness and make you feel like a weenie.  Some of these obstacles can’t be avoided, and in those cases, I’ll try and help you cope.

According to the dictionary, a weenie either means a frankfurter, a penis, or a nerd.  According to me, however, a weenie is not so much being a nerd, which can have certain positive connotations, so much as just being totally lame.  

I guess that for me, it can still mean frankfurter or penis as well.

When it comes to looking like a weenie, obvious examples would be faux-pas’ like ‘socks and sandals’, the ‘bowlcut’, wearing snowpants or those awful hats with the big ear flaps.  I won’t go off on a hat tangent at any point, as I have already done that once before (see: Accessory Before and After the Fact).  Obvious examples of feeling like a weenie could include losing at dodgeball, having your credit card denied or failing a driving test.  Obvious examples of acting like a total weenie should include mispronouncing easy words, confidently shouting the wrong answer in a game of Trivial Pursuit or singing in your car with the windows down (see: Turn it Up, Man).  

Are you starting to understand?  

In short, sometimes you can avoid being a weenie, but sometimes you just can’t.  The best that we can do is deal with the risk factors that we can control.  I can’t cover everything, but these basic examples should help (one for each kind of weenie moment).

On looking like a weenie...

One of the easiest ways to look like a total weenie is to wear a backpack.  Now, before you get all in a tizzy and tie up your panties into infinity knots, yes, I do recognize the usefulness of backpacks.  And it’s not everyone that needs to avoid them altogether.  But it’s kind of like how some guys put on a suit and look like they’re wearing their dad’s pyjamas, and other guys put on a suit and look quite dapper and shit.  In turn, some people rock the backpack just fine.  They look like a casual businessperson on the go.  But you know the type of backpackin’ weenie I mean.  You know how some people put one on and instantly look five years old and just begging to have their lunch money stolen?

If you absolutely must employ a backpack, then there are some things that you should know.  This can help reduce your wienieness.

Don’t tighten the straps all the way to the max.  It’s like when you see a guitarist with the strap all tight and the guitar is up at his chest.  He doesn’t look like a rock God anymore.  He looks like a member of the wiener patrol.  Another example is someone with their shoelaces tied real tight.

“Look how tight my laces are, these babies will never come off.”

What a weenie.  If the backpack straps are that tight, you may as well just bite the bullet and sport the fanny pack, taking you into ultimate weenie territory.

Don’t fill the backpack to capacity either.  There’s no way that you need to be carrying around enough stuff to fill a whole backpack.  What’s in there, a basketball?  Honestly, now you look like a lil’ kid on their way to the basketball court to shoot some hoops with his pals.  Except you don’t actually have any pals.  All you have is a backpack full of shit and a weenie aura that alienates all of those around you.  You don’t make friends with backpacks.

A full backpack just makes you look small and weird, like when people wear exceedingly large sunglasses.  Seriously, don’t wear gigantic sunglasses unless you are:

a) Elton John

b) A pilot in the movie Top Gun

c) Dead with both eyeballs missing

d) A clown

e) All of the above

Moving right along… The worst thing you can do is have a full backpack with the straps tightened all the way.  Even if you’re hiking, you should try and avoid this, because you’ll just look like a granola weenie.  And isn’t that just the worst kind of weenie?

Also, put both shoulder straps on.  The backpack slung over one shoulder doesn’t look casual after the age of twelve.  It looks ultra lame, and thus, quite weenieful.

I have a backpack that I bring to work, and every day, when I go out to the car, I feel slightly less cool then I did before.  Still, it seems better than paying money for a more adult looking bag.  At least my backpack is black, and truth be told, that’s another thing that can help.  Don’t have a bright ass backpack that looks like it has all sorts of nifty pockets made to hold your pencil case, calculator and retainer / headgear.

On feeling like a weenie...

Bringing the car in for maintenance at a garage is a surefire way to make yourself feel like a weenie.  Most of the time, I don’t even understand what I am asking them to do to my car.  I just read what needs to be done off of my vehicle’s maintenance schedule thingy they gave me when I drove it off the lot.  When I am reading it off to the guy at the garage I just try and mumble it, or cough while saying it, in the hopes that he will correct me, and guess what I am talking about.

It’s like ordering off of an Italian restaurant’s menu, when they obnoxiously put the stupid fucking menu items in Italian.

“Yeah I’ll have the … ummm… panooni… giupallda… pancechia.. bruschegnochi?”

“The ravioli?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

The mechanics tend to worsen the situation, by asking you questions that you don’t really know the answer to.

“Yes, I need my breaks serviced.”

“What’s wrong with them?”

“Umm... nothing I think, just according to my maintenance schedule, they require servicing.”

“You been having problems or… what is it exactly you need done?”

“Would you like to see the maintenance schedule?”

“No, that’s ok.”

“You know, I’m not normally such a weenie.”

This is much like how an overall lack of sports knowledge can get you into similar weenie waters with sports superfans, but I believe I tackled that already (see: Color Commentator).  There are two ways to not feel wienerific in front of the mechanic.  Either educate yourself about the inner workings of your automobile (not happening), or just fake that you know what they are talking about (that’s the one).

“There’s a problem with your Flarnder Rodenspiel.”

“Oh yeah, I totally noticed that last week, just you know, give it the usual.”

“What?”

“Proceed with the tune-up.”

The mechanic will still know that you’re a weenie, but you’ll walk away with your head held high, a proud weenie.

On acting like a weenie...

 “I bike to work every day on my banana seat bicycle.  Kneel before me, the king of all weenies.”

They take up an entire lane as if they are a car, but then go through red lights.  They have pants tucked into socks, or are wearing one of those elastics to stop their good work khakis from clogging up the gears.  They ride the elevator up to their floor while still wearing their helmet, as well as the previously mentioned pants elastic.  They have super aerodynamic sunglasses.  They are the weeniecycles.

“Of course I’m turning, did you not see my hand signal?”

Riding a bike in the city does not automatically make you a weenie, but it doesn’t help.  If you have a bell, horn, basket or tassels on your bike, please close your computer and go set fire to your bicycle immediately.

With these three examples you have the blueprint for what makes a true weenie.  Try your best to extrapolate from this guide other situations during which you may look, feel or act like a weenie, and avoid them forever.

That’s it.  These snowpants are really making my balls itch and chafing my groin.

Watch Your Mouth.

There are plenty of situations that arise when a person’s brain filter doesn't catch a nugget of truth on its way past the vocal cords and out of the mouth, causing a person to say something that creates an awkward and uncomfortable situation for all of those involved.  This is often referred to as putting your foot in your mouth.  I’m not going to discuss that here.  Out of context, there is no way for me to know what is or isn't appropriate to say in whatever situation you are in.  Clearly saying something along the lines of “kind of like how your mother used to be an actual prostitute in a real brothel” is probably not something you want to say.  If you have the nerve to blurt out things that are obviously taboo, then you may very well deserve whatever shunning will certainly follow.  What I would like to do is help you avoid certain situations in which you may accidentally say something embarrassing because you did not realize what it could mean, or be interpreted as, as you were actually saying it.

"BLANK my ass."

Sometimes you will hear something that you think is bullshit, and you will wish to call bullshit on the person that said it.  An expression, that is not too uncommon is ‘BLANK my ass’.

“That Jeremy Fapperwheel sure is talented.”

“Talented my ass!”

In this case, clearly you did not agree that Fapperwheel had any talent.  This is totally acceptable.  You just need to be careful what sort of statement you are using this on.  It can get you into a strange predicament.

“So you don’t think he has any talent?”

“No, I really don’t think Jeremy Fapperwheel is all he is cracked up to be.”

“What are you saying? Come on, man!” 

“Come on my ass!”

“…”

Once the awkward silence subsided, the two relative strangers went about their day, as if no sexual advances had in fact been made.

"Don’t BLANK me."

Similar to ‘BLANK my ass’, you really just need to make sure that what you are putting into this context can’t be taken in a different direction.

“You honestly think that your mullet is cool?  Whatever dude.”

“Don’t whatever me!”

That sounds ok, I suppose.  It’s a bit lame, but it works.

“You honestly think that your rat tail is cool? Come on, man!”

“Don’t come on me!”

On top of the discomfort you both will feel, if anyone else is in ear range of your conversation, they may start to question what’s going on in your cubicle.  I guess maybe just try to avoid being told to “come on”.   If told to “come on” run away as fast as you can.

"Fucking BLANK."

I understand that the ‘f’ word is a wonderful word used to enhance many statements in today’s modern conversation.  If during your exchange with another human, you should feel strongly enough about a certain something, you may throw it in there for good measure. 

“Was Smokey and the Bandit any good?”

“Man, it was fucking amazing!”

Seems totally acceptable to me, your sentiment is both heard and emphasized.  However if you try to use it in the same way, under different circumstances, and emphasize the wrong part of a sentence, the outcome can be severely altered.

“Was Burt Reynolds any good in it?”

“Man, I want to be fucking Burt Reynolds.”

“Like… circa 1977, or like Boogie Nights era?  Present day?  I guess he was really good…”

Clearly what was meant was something a little less lustful.

“Man, I want to fucking be Burt Reynolds.”

It is all in what you emphasize.  The response that followed works in either case, but the feeling is very fucking different.   Also, never start a sentence with an ‘f’ bomb, as it can lead to you demanding people to do the unthinkable.  Perhaps, for example, you mean to inform someone that your mom sent a text to you.

“My mom sent me a text.”

Great.  However, when people get carried away with the ol’ fuck word, sometimes it gets slipped into the beginning of every statement.

“Fuck!  My mom sent me a text.”

Written out, you may see nothing wrong.  Like "Holy shit! My mom [..]".  But, read it fast.  That’s right, you just told someone to “fuck my mom”.  Time for you to go stick your head in the oven my friend.  Fucking use fuck carefully, fuck.  Perhaps this is how those mother-brothel rumors get started.

"I’ll BLANK you."

That’s right, another one where context can really do you in.

“Put the stapler back next time!”

“I’ll put you back next time!”

That makes a certain amount of sense.  Is it witty?  No.  But I suppose one could argue that it has a certain je-ne-sais-quoi.  But things can go dreadfully wrong.

“Would you mind turning the light on? “

“I’ll turn you on!”

“Shit, what kind of office is this?”

You can even take it a step further.

“Blow out the candles!”

“I’ll blow you!”

“My kind of party…”

Rather than risk any danger, maybe just discontinue the use of the ‘I’ll BLANK you’.  As we have just seen, it doesn’t work that well even when it does work, regardless of its je-ne-sais-quoi qualities.

"Hi how are you?" – [BRAINFART].

These are self explanatory.  There are so many ways in which you can respond something completely nonsensical. 

“How’s it going?” – “Not much, you?” or

“Hey, what’s up?” – “Pretty good, yourself?” or

“Hi.” – “Can’t complain, how about you?” or

“Can you believe this weather?” – “Hey.” etc.

You get the idea.  You look stupid when, really, you just don’t care enough to formulate an adequate response.

So, listen, if these kinds of things happen to you a lot, all I can suggest is that you try and slow down the speed with which you answer questions.  Sure, you’ll be called “a little slow” or “dumb” behind your back, but it beats the alternative.  I think.  Maybe it doesn’t.  Just stop talking altogether.  Give people little more than a nod, or a tip of the hat.  The vow of silence will make you look noble and courageous, or, like a creepy mime.  Either way, people might finally start leaving you alone.  And isn’t that really what all of this was about?

That’s it.  I have to go practice my 'walking against the wind' and shit.