Bigfoot Hoax Shocker

I have to tell you, after I saw the images of those two Georgia guys on CNN I was convinced they’d really found a bigfoot.  I didn’t need to see a body or any DNA evidence–they sounded so honest and looked so professional.  Of course it turned out to be gorilla suit in a styrofoam box.  I didn’t see that coming.

Of course, it’s a good thing it did turn out to be a hoax.  If those two guys had found a real bigfoot body, it might have turned into the anal rape scene from the movie Deliverance.  A word of advice for any bigfoots living in Georgia:  leave the state immediately.  You are not safe there.

Congestion

I may be over my cold, but the congestion lingers.  I’ve taken so much Mucinex that I feel like I’m turning into a desicated lizard.  And the Mucinex leaves a funny taste in my mouth, kinda like penicillin does.  I think I’d rather have a dead rat in my mouth than this funk.  I haven’t found anything that will make it go away, either.  I does seem to help, though.

I Heart The Olympics

I don’t like many sports, but I love the Olympics.  I especially love it when an athlete gets up there to do his thing in front of millions of people…and then he face plants.  Whenever someone spends 8 years training for one event and then chokes, I feel good about myself.  I screw up all the time–only I have invested a lot less time doing it.  Michael Phelps your day is coming!

Since the Beijing Olympics have started, I’ve learned a lot of things about other cultures, too.  First, it doesn’t matter how much money you throw at the opening ceremonies, it still gets boring after three hours.  Second, Americans are not the only performers who lipsync (I’m mean, with a billion people, couldn’t they find one little girl that is cute AND can sing?)  Third, Chinese gymnasts don’t bounce when they miss their landing.

This is also my first Olympics in High Definition.  If I ever get a chance to go see the Olympics in person, I’ll probably pass just so I can watch it in HD at home.  It looks that good.

Go America!

Back to Work

So I figured I better go back to work before they fire me.  I haven’t had a fever in 24 hours, and I’m feeling much better today.  Actually, I don’t know how I feel.  The codeine in the cough syrup I’ve been ingesting makes sure I don’t feel anything.  I could suffer an arm amputation and not even notice.

The drive in was strange.  It was like having an out of body experience.  It felt like I was floating around the cabin while someone else navigated.  I’m a total space cadet today.  Forget drinking and driving–they need to outlaw over-medicating and driving if they haven’t already.

I closed my eyes just for a second as I was turning onto the expressway.  The next thing I know, I’m in the drive-thru at my favorite breakfast place without having any recollection of how I got there.  The woman wants me to place my order.  Oh crap!  After days of coughing, my throat is all scratchy, and I can barely muster up anything above a whisper.  I blurt something out like “Nummer two wit doc petter”.  Translation:  Number two with a Dr. Pepper.

When I get to the window, sure enough, they got the order wrong.  Oh well, I’m too medicated to care.  I close my eyes again.  The next thing I know, I’m at work.

I see one of my co-workers getting on the elevator.  She knows I’ve been sick.  When I try to get on the elevator with her, I see this look of horror cross her face.  Take the next elevator, this one’s full!  She’s the only one in the elevator.

“Good morning,” I say to her.  Then I cough all the way up to our floor.

Sick In The Summertime

I’ve been running a fever off and on since Saturday, and I’m getting sick of being sick. Who gets sick in the summertime anyway? I just had a scary, delirious thought. Maybe it’s the West Nile virus.

Whatever it is, I’ve taken enough cough syrup to tranquilize a fucking elephant, but it hasn’t really helped. Each time I cough, I think my brains are going to come out of my ears. My voice is so hoarse, I sound like a seventy year old chainsmoker.

I don’t say this often, but I’m really looking forward to going back to work.

The Devil’s Other Children

Have you even seen The Omen?  Well, my two adopted brothers could kick Damien’s ass.

My mom and her husband Rex have had custody of them for about three years now.  In that short time (which seems like a millennium to me), they have done things that would make Supernanny quit her job and go back to England.

They’ve dumped bags of shredded cheese in their bed, not to mention a couple cartons of pure cane sugar.  Rex bought a $3000 HDTV.  Within a week, the boys had drawn on it with crayons and magic markers.  I noticed last time I was there that the screen is also scratched now.

Mom bought a $60 knitted blanket with fringe on it from Dillard’s.  Later that day, she draped it across herself and took a nap under it.  When she woke up, she immediately knew something was wrong.  There were loose threads all over the place.  To her horror, she discovered the kids had taken a pair of scissors to the blanket and cut it up into a hundred pieces WHILE SHE WAS SLEEPING UNDER IT!

Mom also bought a couple of foam mattress covers to make the boys’ beds softer.  One day she heard them in their bedroom, laughing.  That’s never a good sign.  When she checked on them, they had pulled the sheets back, and they were biting mouthfuls of foam out of the cover and spitting them all over the floor.

Alex and Austin are seven and six now, and their escapades just keep getting more creative.  Recently, they were caught swimming in the neighbor’s swimming pool.  One or both of them climbed on top of a neighbor’s car and scratched the paint bad enough the car had to be repainted.  The other day, Alex went down the street to go swimming at a neighbor boy’s house, despite Rex forbidding him to go.  Whenever Rex discovered Alex missing, he went down there and brought him back.  While Alex was changing out of his swim trunks, Rex told him he was going to get a spanking for disobeying.  Not wanting to be spanked, Alex shot out the front door like a bullet and took off down the street in the afternoon sunlight, completely naked.  Rex caught up to him about two or three blocks from the house.

These two boys may be the most spanked boys in history.  Yet, spanking doesn’t seem to deter them.

Their latest escapade is by far their scariest.  Mom was cleaning up their room the other day and noticed something was wrong with the carpet by one of the boys’ beds.  Upon closer inspection, she realized the carpet was charred.  She found two places in their bed room where the carpet had been burned.  Then she found another burnt place under her own bed.  The kids had found one of Rex’s cigarette lighters, and decided to see what they could burn with it.  If there was ever an argument for her husband to quit smoking, I think this one should be it.

Don’t Call Me From the Toilet

One of my biggest pet peeves is people who call you on the cell phone when they are in the bathroom.  Manners have gone out the window with the advent of cordless and cell phones.  Why would anyone think it is okay to talk to you while they are dropping a deuce?

“Hey, Mark.”  Fart!  “Can I borrow your table saw?”  Grunt!  “I’ve got some two-by-fours I need to shorten.”  Splash!

How do you even carry on a conversation like that?  I’m not that good a multi-tasker.

Maybe people don’t think you can’t hear the bathroom sounds on the other end.  Wrong!  Cell phone microphones are so sensitive you can hear a mouse pissing on a cotton ball across the room.

Whenever I’m talking to someone, if I realize they are in the toilet, I just hang up on them without explanation.  Show me some respect, and I’ll show you some.

The McDonald’s Drive-Thru

So I pull up to the McDonald’s drive-thru this morning, and my blood pressure immediately spikes.  The drive-thru I go to separates into a left and right lane so two people can theoretically order at the same time.  (I say theoretical because I’ve never actually seen it happen.)  After the split, the lanes re-merge.  It works surprisingly well.  They’ve only messed up my order fifty times or so.

Anyway, when I pull up, there is this car blocking BOTH lanes.  The woman in the car looks like she is a space cadet–her eyes are all glazed over.  I don’t think she understands what she’s supposed to do.  Maybe it’s her first day behind the wheel, but I doubt it.

Suddenly, I imagine I am James Bond, and I push the machine gun button on my dashboard.  At the front of my Astin Martin, the headlights fold down, exposing a set of finely crafted machine guns.  They begin to fire.

I’m awakened from my fantasy when I realize she has pulled forward.  I pull forward, too.

Then she stops again before reaching the ordering speaker, still blocking both lanes.  This is the last straw.  I’ve had to wait all of 10 seconds to speak to a McDonald’s lackey, and this is just unacceptable.  I’m about to turn into Towanda from Fried Green Tomatoes and just ram my car into hers, over and over again.

I hope it isn’t going to be one of those days.

Where Are My Crazy Pills?

Have you ever noticed how just about everyone around you is crazy?  I work with this one woman that cannot send normal emails.  No.  She sends emails that have weird poetry in them, followed by messages like “You inspire me.”  It’s creepy.  Sometimes I’ll be waiting for the elevator, and I’ll see her walking toward the building across the parking lot.  I say a little prayer that the elevator will get here before she does, and I push the call button a couple more times.  Most of the time, it does not, and I have to ride up with her.  Good thing it’s only a couple of floors.

Then there’s the woman that dresses like a hooker.  Every single day.  Oddly enough, her outfits still fit within the confines of the corporate dress code.  She walks down the hall with her slow hooker-strut, almost like she’s floating.  Of course she’s in the middle, so if I get behind her, I can’t get around.  I’m afraid to get too close because if those tight jeans fail, I could be hit with flying zipper or button shrapnel.

With all these crazy people walking around, I want to know why more antidepressants are not available over the counter?  They ought to come in bottles where you can just pop them as easily as Flintstones vitamins.

Chickasaw Commercials

I keep seeing these annoying Chickasaw commercials on TV. It is okay for me to talk about them because I am part Chickasaw. It is similar to how blacks are allowed to call each other the N-word.

Anyway, these commercials don’t make any sense to me. They’re not selling anything. It’s not like you can watch the commercial and say, “Wow! Those Chickasaws really got their shut together. I think I’ll join them.” It doesn’t work like that. Either you’re one of us or you ain’t.

So the question remains. Why waste money on advertisements?