fathead

I just found an envelope that I obviously licked shut* and put something inside.

As far as I can tell it looks like a paperclip and something metal. It's something small that I definitely did not want to lose so I put it in this envelope. It was buried in my desk in the corner of a drawer where I keep all my important-but-little-used-papers-things-whatevers-and-miscllaneous-etceteras-that-are-important-and-I-must-not-ever-lose.

I'd open it up but we are moving offices and I can't seem to figure out where the unused envelopes went.

I wonder what it is.

whenever i get on the subway i try to spit on the train tracks and make my spit land right on one of the rails. it's kind of gross. i only said that because i'm sure other people think it's somewhat gross, but i don't think it's all that gross.

but i can see how if you saw me do it you'd think, "that's gross", or maybe you'd think, "that's uncouth", or possibly even if you were of delicate sensibilities you'd think, "that's disgusting." and admittedly, i'd be inclined to agree with you if i saw me, or another person that was not me, spitting on the subway and he was standing there trying to spit, so that his spit landed right on the rails. but i am me, and i am not watching somebody (who is not me) trying to spit on the rails.

i was going to put a poem here, but i wisely at the last moment decided against it. i am so clearly not the type of person who puts poetry on his blog. i'm not sure what kind of person puts poetry on their blog and i'm sure if i met some (as i am sure i most assuredly have in the past) i wouldn't think poorly of them. but, nevertheless, i know, i'm not one of them.

if one would be so interested as to read a poem i would be recommending old men by ogden nash.

why i should be receive electric shocks everytime i email a friend

To: A friend who wishes she did not have a friend as weird as the friend that wrote this email
From: The aforementioned weird friend
Subject: Ants

gourmet ant bait? but do you have the Ant Cafe http://www.pestproducts.com/antcafe.htm that is specifically designed for gourmet ant bait?

The cafe says to ants, "come in, relax, take a load off, have some mocha coffee... die". ants are suckers for mocha coffee...suckers.

you'll be happy to know that I successfully stalked and hunted the chinese fly and squashed it like brezhnev squashing the czechoslovakians. i felt just like the great white hunters of yore; only i'm not white, didn't have a gun, wasn't hunting a lion, and wasn't in africa. (i do have more than a few pairs of dandy khaki pants though.)

and lastly, a stupid ant fact. (presuming that somewhere, out there, in a place where linda ronstadt is not the singing diva that we all know and love.) there is such a thing as a non-stupid ant fact:

ants won't cross a line of chalk because, and i'm only guessing here, that ants are stupid. you can limit where the ants go by chalking lines where you really don't want them. you can also use, i believe, non white colored chalk to make it less obtrusive.

for your enjoyment a link to a picture of group of ants that have decided, not unlike our intrepid troopers in the 101st airborne that this bridge, is a bridge too far...or this line of chalk is a chalk bridge too far...or whatever.

http://pak06.pictures.aol.com/NASApp/ygp/GuestLogin?event=TaskView&shareInfo=KnVVBplenSO6KEzOHqPJFLcuN5QZZzRsIYfWoE%2bsdQKJJdNX5w59hg%3d%3d&selectedIndex=0&locale=en_US&locale=en_US

recommending: not making chalk outlines in the shape of people. it's a little morbid and will only serve to confuse and befuddle your guests.

and a caveat: this little ant factoid might be useless as drawing chalk lines in ones apartment may not be particularly useful information or practical. needless to say that if you ever move into a cave, or in a tent on a sidewalk, and you have an ant problem. the chalk thing should be right up your alley.

i almost punched the art director in the face today.

i was standing next to his desk and he started making excuses (again.) and i was mentally visualizing (as if, there was any other way) my fist slamming into his face. (repeatedly.)

dealing with him is most frustrating. and by most frustrating i really mean that it’d be easier to give direction to a person who didn’t speak english, was retarded, was two years old, and deaf.

this is the second time i’ve had an almost overwhelming, irrepressible urge to feed him a knuckle sandwich. the first time went something like this:

me: is the project going to be finished by the deadline?

retard: well, I’ve been so busy and this happened and that happened and (excuse)* (excuse) (excuse), and (excuse).

me: so you’re telling me that it won’t be done?

retard: (excuse) (excuse) I don’t have time (excuse) (excuse)

me: you’ve known about this deadline for over a month and you’ve also known how important this project is.

retard: (excuse) (excuse) well i have to go now because i have to leave work early to meet my dad.

me: ....flinch

i actually flinched in pain, like somebody just boxed me in the face. first he tells me he doesn’t have time then he tells me he has to leave work early, meanwhile the rest of the art department has been working overtime on this same project and he’s been leaving early all week.

I guess, guess being the operative word, that this would be somewhat ‘ok’, except for the simple fact that he NEVER CAN FINISH A PROJECT BY A DEADLINE. I should probably just change the use of the word deadline to wheneverthefuck.

me: hey will you finish the project by wheneverthefuck?
retard: you betcha!

the sad part is our health insurance policy doesn’t cover mental suffering caused by idiots.

*i’d write out his actual excuses but i wouldn’t want to be responsible for the damage you’d suffer from reading them. (specifically the damage to your eyes when they started to bleed uncontrollably.)

**i’ve never flinched from being party to an act of such gross stupidity before. it was almost amazing, i say almost because my heart rate instantaneously shot up to 200 beats per minute and i was forced to stare at my fist to remind it not to start smashing him in the face. suffering a heart attack because of the dumb is never amazing, almost or otherwise.

# posted by somebody other than you : 6:11 PM

i saw the sun today which is fairly unremarkable but i really can't remember the last time i saw the sun.

a pleasing moment all around.

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several people i work with are, how should i say this, less than smart. if smart was like... well let's forgo the similes for the moment and just call dumb, dumb.

while it can be argued that most likely they do actually have brains one would be, or you would be for that matter, hard pressed to actually find evidence other than the fact they 1. somehow remember to remind themselves to breathe every 15 seconds or so and 2. they most of the time appear to remember to blink.

working with them is pure unadulterated awesomenosity. (a word knowing no bounds of awesomeness not even being aware, self actualized or not, that it's not actually a real word.)

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i've just spent the last two hours going through CD-ROM's looking for typos because one of the programmers here can't spell to save her ass. she can program like a mofo (and we all know that mofo's* can program like well.. a mofo) but she can't spell in english, like, at all. if english spelling was like breathing she'd be a dying asthmatic on a respirator.

so anyway, i had to check to make sure she spelled the word "alligator" - two L's (or elles or elle's [see attached footnote for unclarifying clarification]) and it took about two hours to check. i could have had somebody else check it but i felt bad because let's face it, checking for other people's typos is like, so not fun.

it's seems a bit inappropriate (or is that ironic) that i'm checking for spelling errors when we all know that when it comes to spelling, while i may not be the one dying on the respirator, i'm definitely the nerdy kid with the asthma inhaler in his breast pocket ready to take a hit at the slightest throat constriction. (gasp)

the nice thing is while checking for spelling errors and fighting with macromedia flash player i got to re-read almost all of my blog posts, including the super-secret ones that nobody knows about.(ok, so they aren't so super-secret) i have to say they are highly, highly entertaining to read (at least to me, but then again i wrote them.)

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i haven't picked up a newspaper in a long long time in a land far far away. in other words, for about six months. i didn't even pick up a newspaper prior to the election. i was confident and simultaneously dreading the fact that g.bush II was going to get elected again and secretly, or not so secretly wishing, that the democrats could for once, JUST ONCE get their heads out of their collective asses for the 30 seconds of concerted, no - intelligent and concerted effort it would take for them to win the election.

i've been a registered republican for as long as i've been able to vote, despite or in spite of the fact that i never knew what GOP stood for until i turned 25 (actually 31 but it's too embarrassing to admit that i didn't know that for so long, so i'll pretend it's 25) nonetheless, i still think it's a really, really, really stupid acronym.

so despite or in spite of or just spiting in general, i really wanted kerry to win. not that i liked kerry i just liked him slightly more than i liked bush. but that's all in the past now, far far back and i'll have to wait until g.bush II comes back from one of his many vacations to see and judge for myself how badly he is going to destroy the country in the next four years.

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*is it "mofos" or "mofo's" the apostrophe continues to perplex me greatly.

you dumb motherfuckers fucked us all for another four.