"she thinks it's a pogo stick"

apparently, by some unimaginable stroke of idiocy, some girl at my office looked at something and wasn't sure if it was a pogo stick or not. i mean, did it have two little pegs to rest your feet on? was it slender and a bit taller than waist high? did it look like it could fucking bounce? if you answered 'no' to any of those questions, then it probably wasn't a goddamn pogo stick. problem solved.

also, it looks like the woman with the (very) ill-advised perm is getting married. this gave me a little bit of a start because i would've bet the farm that she was into women. go figure.

jeans day!

first off, i'd like to apologize for something. yesterday, pelt had an allergy attack and i forgot to tell you about it. i know, dick move. anyways, she's fine now (it would appear) and hungry for some chocolate covered popcorn (not joking). also, she informed us that one upside to an otherwise crippling allergy attack is that her lips swell, "which is sexy." uh, thank you, grace, i think you're wrong.

also, since i spend so much time complaining about stuff here, i thought i'd tell you about a couple things i love:

1) today i got to write the sentence "a number of important details were obscured by the cartoon penguin logo printed at the top of each page of the document." what kills me about this, is that whoever made the decision to print this penguin on the document was probably working on the assumption that it would lend credibility to both this and future exchanges of information. this is what i like to call an "incorrect" or "delusional" assumption. i mean, look, i'm not going to pretend to be professional, but i know, FOR A FACT, that cartoon characters should not be printed on any official document. i might be going out on a limb here, but i don't think warren buffett ever says "hey team, i was thinking of starting this powerpoint presentation with a couple sweet drawings i did of the tazmanian devil. is everyone on board with this?"

2) there is a lightswitch in the building for which someone made "on" and "off" labels. they are affixed, respectively, above the lightswitch when it is in its upward position and below the lightswitch when it is in its downward position. could this be the most unnecessary explanation of an intuitive concept EVER? i'm guessing yes. although i do have a sign inside my refrigerator that says "the refrigerator is open" and a sign on the outside which says "the refrigerator is not open." you know, just in case i forget what open looks like.

you've got flow!

i just overheard someone saying to a client, "don't be afraid of me, girl," and it got me to wondering: is this the first time in history that someone confused the lessons of "phone etiquette" training with the lessons of "how to sound like you rape" training? i'd have to guess probably.

important lessons

i don't mean to get all that guy who hosts project runway on y'all, but there are a couple outfits i've noticed recently that warrant mentioning. take this as a form of warning, because trust me, if you wake up and accidentally dress yourself in the following ways, you'll end up wanting to cry and/or vomit-cry by the end of the day.

1) sailors and whores are not the same thing: if you want to dress up like a sailor, fucking go for it. me, i choose not to. i think it looks stupid and i also think halloween is sacred. that said, if you're the kind of person that likes to dress like a sailor and then go to work, DO NOT paint your face like a goddamn limited edition raggedy anne streetwalker doll. why? because a) you'll look like a dicktard and b) people won't know whether to proposition you or give you some vitamins to ward off scurvy, and people don't like to be confused in this way.

2) weaponry and clothes are not the same things: when you shred up kimonos and then shred up throwing stars and then fuse them into a blouse, it means you're wearing the equivalent of an offensive 7th grade social studies project. this is a problem.

leprechaun 814: in the office

once, a friend of mine sent me this really funny picture of warwick davis in a purple lady's business suit. until today, i had forgotten about that picture and how happy it made me. what made me remember? oh, i don't know. maybe it was the lady in my office who's a DEAD FUCKING RINGER for willow. i mean, it was incredible. i damn near took off my shoes and started rolling around on the floor giggling. i wish my blog had eyes, so you could see for yourself. i feel like at some point i'm going to have to ask her, "has anyone ever told you that you look exactly like that little guy from the leprechaun movies." if she responds in an irish accent, i just might die.

outfit of the day goes to the gutsy woman whose interpretation of "professional attire" is "long sleeved harley davidson t-shirt." she'll be having an unpleasant conversation with HR before the sun sets. that i can promise you.

also, what's the opposite of "meeting of the minds"? i ask only because i just witnessed it outside. five of the ninniest ninnies i've ever been in proximity to were having a discussion about how to rise up in the ranks at this company and they used the term "GAR walks." i've got one tip for how not to get a promotion: keep on using fucking made-up words like "GAR walks."

rat dog loves sayer's cock

pelt and 227 do this really neat thing where, if one has a story, the other one will come over to where i sit, give a brief introduction and then then the actual storyteller will get down to business. today, pelt's introduction went a little like this. actually, no, it went exactly like this: "they're chocholate brown, and they take it all the way off." you guessed it, 227's going to the strip club tonight. not just any strip club but a former biker bar to see a touring troupe of black strippers. holy fucking shit, is she excited. i figure she'll knock off work a little early to do her hair. she also suggested (read: threatened) that she might bring in pictures, to which everyone within earshot responded with stunned silence. don't think the strippers would appreciate 227 bringing the old disposable kodak for some candids, but who knows. i'm not a stripper and thus can't say for certain.

this whole disaster of a conversation was juxtaposed with pelt coming over and showing off how big her hands are. seriously, they're fucking bear paws. thinking about this and then hearing the quiver in her voice when she talked about naked cock made me spit up a little bit. i'll tell you what, y'all. weird shit happens on jeans day. people get all loose lips sink ships up in this piece.

shocking!

well, here's a convincing argument that youtube is for pussies: "my son loves america's funniest home videos. he just howls at the television for the whole hour." really, america's funniest home videos still fucking exists!?! color me shocked. does bob saget still host it or did he pass the torch to uncle joey? second of all, who knew that a human could birth a retarded werewolf? now that's a wonder of wonders.

the other big news for the day is that, apparently, pelt's mother's house is covered in post-it notes. that's like surprise level negative nine. you could tell me pelt was raised by a family of popsicle sticks and i wouldn't even blink.

outfit of the day goes to the lady who was wearing st. patrick's day.