If you like this, you should probably put a ring on it … and then you should get your head checked by a mental-health professional.

What, you thought I was kidding?

Beyonce Scratches

Smiling in spite of a painful wedgie … because I’m a professional.

Awesome — and real — Beyonce images HERE.

Pin It
Posted in Life, PhotoChops | 7 Responses

Burger King spiked my co-worker’s fries with a mind-altering substance

I can't believe I ate this

That is the only logical explanation for what I am about to tell you.

It all started with a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich.

We ran out of sliced turkey … and being the financially sensible (read: broke) person that I am, I decided that, rather than eat out, I would bring to work a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich.

Lunchtime arrived. I was weak. Faint. Famished. I ate the peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich. It was, shall we say, less than satisfying.

I was fucking starving. To death, even. Death was imminent.

My co-worker, meanwhile, opted for Burger King … a place from which I had not eaten a single morsel in more than 10 years.

It was 2002 when last I visited the kingdom of burgers. During a pit stop at a rest area in New Jersey, delirious from hunger, I somehow succumbed to the vile call of a bacon double cheeseburger, fries and a chocolate shake. Halfway through that psychotic episode, my hunger-suppressed ability to feel revulsion finally kicked in and I tossed the remainder of my “meal” in the trash while simultaneously using the Jedi mind trick on my wife.

“You shall tell no one what you just saw.”

I shall tell no one what I just saw.

“This is not the meal I was looking for.”

This is not the meal you were looking for.

And so, aside from that one regrettable episode, I have been fast-food-burger-joint-free for roughly two decades.

Which is why I’m convinced that what happened the other day had to involve my unwitting consumption of a hallucinogenic drug.

It must have been on the fries. They smelled so good … and amplified to an unimaginable degree the inadequacy of the peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich that was taking up an infinitesimally small part of my still-growling stomach.

Then it happened. My friend offered me a fry. I ate it … and lost my fucking mind.

The rest is a blur. Someone — surely not me — took my car through the Burger King drive-through. I saw a hand reaching out to pay the headset-wearing merchant of death. It looked like my hand. But it couldn’t be … because that same hand was then holding a bag containing Burger King “food.” What madness is this??

Before I knew it, the contents of that bag had found their way into my stomach, and I spent the rest of the day burping and hiccuping and half hoping that the whole fucking mess would come gushing back out of my mouth like a disgusting geyser of fat and grease and “beef” and space-age preservatives that could keep an uneaten Burger King burger in mint condition until long after the sun burns out.

So I’m looking forward to never eating there again.

P.S.: This is why monarchies are bad, people.

Pin It
Posted in Cubicle, Life | 11 Responses

This entire thing is in my stomach right now


The tomato sauce counts as a vegetable, right?

File under “Irony” …

Right after lunch, I got this email from my doc:

Your labs from yesterday are excellent. As expected, your HDL (good) cholesterol is even higher [than last year], and the remainder of your numbers are healthy.

Please have someone carve that on my tombstone this weekend. Thanks.

I’m gonna miss you guys.

Pin It
Posted in Life | 5 Responses

I appreciate this company-sanctioned act of rebellion


I feel young. Wild. Free.

Look at me, bitches! I’m flipping off the establishment!

Screw you, responsibility and adulthood! I’m a modern day Peter Pan! (If Peter Pan spent 40 hours per week in a cubicle farm, that is.)

Khakis and dress shoes be damned. Today, I’m dressing down. Today, it’s jeans and sneakers. Because today? Today, my friends … is

Casual Friday!

Yeah, baby! Today, I’m sticking it to The Man!

(With his permission, of course.)

(Thank you, sir. May I have another?)

Pin It
Posted in Cubicle, Life | 12 Responses

♫ It’s the least … wonderful tiiime … of the yeeearrr ♬

Nighty-night. Wake me in June.

Wake me when it’s summer, m’kay?

Well, the holidays are over, boys and girls, and you know what that means: Time for me to slide into my cryogenic sleep chamber and get all kinds of unconscious for the next few months!

Listen, I can handle the fall. I don’t like it … but I can handle it. In fact, if we could go from summer to fall and then right back to summer again, I’d be all smiles when fall showed up. Based on the current arrangement, however, fall is just nature’s equivalent of a used-car dealer pulling a shitty bait-and-switch routine.

“You’re looking for Summer? Well, we’re all out of those, but lemme show you something that I think you’re really gonna love. Step right this way and feast your eyes on … FALL! Isn’t she a beauty? Yessiree, my friend: Fall is just like summer … only BETTER! Look at that beautiful foliage! So colorful! And that weather! So mild and dry!

“What’s that? Dark at 4 o’clock in the afternoon? Well, yes, this model does feature a one-hour time change, but that doesn’t happen for a while, and plus— Say what? You heard that all the pretty leaves fall off the trees, leaving behind the most depressingly desolate landscape you’ve ever seen? OK, technically, yes, that’s true, but— Plummeting temperatures? Well, granted things do cool down a bit, but — WAIT! NO! DON’T OPEN THE TRUNK!”



… thafuck?

Yeah, like that.

Now, as much as I despise the transition from fall to winter, I’m fairly adept at convincing myself that the November and December climate change is just part of a holiday-season set piece … and, taken in that context, I’m OK with it. In fact, I had the most delightful holiday season of my life this year, and when the first snowflakes of this winter began to fall on Christmas Eve, I was totally down with the magic of the moment.

It’s January 8th. The magic’s gone, bitch.

There are few things more bleak and dreary than early January. As soon as the decorations are stowed in the attic and the Christmas tree has been relegated to the trash heap, I’m ready to suck down a propofol shake and slip into a five-month coma.

Unfortunately, my propofol connections have all dried up and the cryogenic sleep chamber I’ve been working on hasn’t quite gelled … so it looks like I’m going to have to do what I did last year … which is to drag my ass out of bed before sunup and torture myself work out like a mental patient in the hopes that the endorphin rush will keep me from curling up in the fetal position until June.

So, you know … I have that to look forward to.

Hey, do any of you have a Caribbean mansion I can borrow for a few months?

Pin It
Posted in Life, Winter | 18 Responses