My smelly boss

Filed Under (What fresh hell is this) by Monkee on 03-05-2008

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To my farty boss and his bowels.

I hear .

I hear in there.

I hear farting. Shifting in your leather chair. Trying to muffle your bodily noises in your vibrating chair pad (which is creepy enough).

Worse: I smell .

The first day did this, I thought someone had burned a Lean Cuisine Salisbury Steak in the microwave. The second day, I stupidly asked if smelled “that vile odor”.

blushed and said, “I have this little problem when I am stressed, excited, or eat a lot of protein in the mornings…” and thus began the stinkfest

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Listen, can’t lay off the protein bars and egg whites and ostrich sausage in the mornings? Can eat them, say, at lunch or at night, and torture your family and pets with the stench?

I am tired of burning candles in my cubicle like I’m some kind of Wiccan trying to ward off the Samhain Fart Satyr. I dread bringing my paperwork because I don’t always hear and sometimes I am very unpleasantly surprised by the greasy cloud that surrounds your area.

I really like . ’re a great boss. pay me well and gave me a chance. But this has to stop before I burst a blood vessel in my eye from holding my breath when I come close to . See a gastroenterological specialist already; I’ll even make the appointment!

How to win friends and influence people or The Seven Habits of Highly Flatulent People

Filed Under (Random!) by Monkee on 30-04-2008

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The horn of Helms Deep

Filed Under (Random!) by Monkee on 28-04-2008

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Why do I keep going there? I loath Walmart. I loath the people there and most of all I loath myself for stepping foot into that backwoods carnival. Yet I go, I try to go at 1 or 2 in the morning. Not that don’t want to be seen there just that the orcs and assorted Nair-do-wells are huddled in a RV doing meth and singing Sweet Home Alabama.

Dear reader if I haven’t mentioned it before I would like to state for the record that I have a very strange phobia about Walmart. I cant be in there longer than 10 min’s or I freak out. Ask anyone that has gone with me and they will tell you I have a Darwinian shot clock. I guess that the melange of inbreeding and the lack of teeth or footwear just spooks me and 10 min’s is my hair trigger. No matter what I’m doing, at the 10 min mark I just walk. Yet again I digress.

So I am shopping for my useless goods and it hits, I need to tinkle. Lets just say that I have a very industrious bladder and when I have to go I really have to go. So I’m in Walmarts door-less bathroom, I say door-less not to give the impression that I’m peeing in view of everyone its just that the configuration of the entrance is like a corn maze. You have to walk around a few corners and such. As restrooms go its pretty nice, clean and spacious. Modern looking with subway tiles all over. So I’m at the urinal doing my thing when I fart. Not your normal fart. The kind that makes you look behind you to see if there are any casualties. Like when you fire a sam missile and you are worried about the backwash of stage 1 ignition. Well as a well-versed bathroom farter I spun my head in search of someone to blame this on. This is a technique I developed years ago and it has served me well. You fart then let someone else exit the bathroom before you thereby taking the brunt of the scorn. I forgot, it is 1 am and there is nobody.

Now this was no ordinary flatus. It wasn’t the most violent one that I have laid down but definitely in the top 10. What made it worse was the fact that someone decided to model the acoustics in there after the Sistine Chapel. After I got past the initial fear(yes my own farts scare me, they remind me of the evil spirits leaving the Ark in Indian Jones). I thought that it might be ok as the din of all the Hee-Hawwers coming through line might hide the blast. Then I remembered the hour and as I exited my gaze was met with 3 employees looking at me with disgust. I was embarrassed and scurried for something to say, preferable something monosyllabic so that they might understand better.

I just told them that somebody might want to check on “that guy in there” and made hast for the door.

My 10 minutes had just elapsed.

Things that I have learned

Filed Under (Random!, The human condition) by Monkee on 08-04-2008

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-Walmat has a huge parking lot

 

-Walmart’s parking lot is empty at 2 in the morning

-Walmart does nothing to clear the ice away

-My car has front wheel drive and a killer e-brake

-At 20 mph I can spin my car in a full circle

-After 30 minutes of doing e-brake spins in a Walmart parking lot the police will be called

-Police are very nice if your honest with them and admit to just “farting around”

-Even though seem to have a rapport with a police it is unwise to comment to him “that’s a nice gun! Do they make a model for men?”

-There seems to be no hard and fast rule for when the police may use a taser

-Tasers may make pee your own pants

Dont tase me bro!

Ohhh Canada…………. you suck!

Filed Under (Random!) by Monkee on 07-04-2008

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Why Monkee, you are such a hater!

Damn straight baby.

Let me break it down for you.

I believe Canada is the Aqua Man in the justice league of North America. The Duplo block in a world full of Lego’s.

Worthless!

You may ask why I say this, consider the following.

1. Half of them speak French! That alone is enough to hate the whole of the country.

2. They have added nothing to world culture, except for the wearing of black socks and sandals.

3. They have a political system just this side of communism.

4. During the Viet Nam war they opened their arms to our hippies and draft dodgers.

5. I have heard that they eat puppies and fart on our flag.

When I lived in Boise ,a few years ago, I got wind that they were planning a week long party celebrating the 25th anniversary of the draft dodger and the influx of dirty hippies into their country. Then I saw a report on the mass exodus of some 8000 middle-aged hippies that wanted to relive the time that they sat in Canada, smoked pot and talked about “The Man” whilst their neighbors were in south  east Asia fighting.

I could not let this lie, not when I was a scant few hundred miles from this twisted fiesta. I made a few phone calls and hit the road.

I sat, just few hundred miles north of the Canadian border, in my rented ice cream truck. I saw my comrades huddled of in the distance awaiting the signal. I waited until the hippies were nice and stoned, and in the middle of there dirt bag bacchanalia.

The fireworks started.

Literally!

I cranked the speakers on the ice cream truck and played a few tracks from “Apocalypse Now” intermingled with a little “Full Metal Jacket” as I shot fireworks at them. As this was going on the local theater troop that I had hired ran through the crowd wearing black pajamas and sampan hats yelling “di di mau”.

This had the desired effect and dare I say it must been the “Brown noise” to all hippies because all of the strawberry kush and petrulli oil in the world couldn’t cover the smell of 8000 thousand dirty hippies crapping their pants in unison.

Looking back I feel some remorse for what I did. I felt a twinge of guilt on my drive back to Boise. The guilt subsided as the thought of warmer temperatures, normal footwear and how great the USA is wafted into my head.

Every now and then I hear the Canadian national anthem and the thought of soiled underwear and  petrulli oil make me smile.

Rock on you dirty hippy bastards.

Bathroom problems

Filed Under (Random!) by Monkee on 29-03-2008

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I don’t like to use other peoples bathrooms.There, I said it.

But even though I don’t like doing it, I realize that I can’t always predict when nature will call. And when it strikes at an inopportune time, like say, when I’m at your house, I’ve got to decide whether to use your facilities or, quite literally, suck it up. My decision hinges on a “perceived level of comfort” that I determine through a process that involves something I like to call “calculated risk assessment”.

Allow me to explain:

If I get that uncomfortable crapping-soon feeling at your house, the first thing I’ll usually do is ask where the bathroom is, “because I have to wash my hands.” I may in fact be washing my hands, but I’m also scoping out the goods in the bathroom to see whether or not I want to risk letting it all hang out at your house.

When I’m in your bathroom, here’s what I’m checking out:
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I usually take a pee in the toilet and flush. During this time I observe a number of things. Is this a low-flow toilet? What kind of flushing power does it have?Note: if it can’t take down my yellow, it ain’t taking down my brown.I also take stock of any objects, like knickknacks or tissue boxes, that might be perched on the back of the toilet. In the event that I need quick and immediate access to the internal flushing mechanism, I like to think out in advance what kind of an effort this will require.

I look to see if the sink is in close proximity to the toilet. Ideally, I should be able to reach the faucet and turn the water on while still seated on the can. This is so I can sporadically turn on the water to mask any splashing noises that might occur while I’m doing my business.
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This is key to making me feel comfortable enough to crap in your bathroom. The Ceiling Fan provides two essential functions necessary for a stress-free poo. First off, it is a fan that sucks foul odors from the bathroom. Secondly, it makes noise - which can prevent you from hearing the grunting, groaning, farting, and splashing noises that I’m making.Note: If you don’t have a fan, you better have a window. If you don’t have either, I’m sorry, but I’m just not gonna be able to use your bathroom to make a deposit.
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It is very important that I don’t mistake a Heat Lamp for a Ceiling Fan. They both make noise, which is good, but as we’ve learned, a Ceiling Fan also sucks away foul odors. A Heat Lamp simply bakes the odor, thus exacerbating the problem.Note: Using a Heat Lamp solely for its noise making ability while using a window, or other device (to be discussed), to eliminate baked butt-smell, is acceptable, but not ideal.

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I’m always pleased when I see a book of matches on the back of the toilet. I don’t know how lighting a match nullifies poop-stench, but I don’t question it too much for fear it will one day stop working.Note: Always flush matches. Do not put them in the trash can or the fact that you’re dumping in someone else’s house may suddenly be the least of your problems. I learned this hard way and please believe me when I tell you that you really don’t want to be frantically trying to extinguish flames and frantically trying to pull your pants up at the same time.

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Air Freshener is completely worthless. If I see this in your bathroom, it tells me one thing, and one thing only:You like the smell of shit-covered flowers.If this is the case, I’ll be happy to oblige, but personally I’d rather smell the foulest poo-stink than some of the so-called air “fresheners” out there.

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I check to see that there is, in fact, toilet paper currently on the roll. Whether the paper comes off the roll “over” or “under” is irrelevant as long as there is ample supply. I might check under the sink, etc. for extra rolls just to make sure I’m on the safe side.I don’t want to find out mid-crap that you’re out of toilet paper. I also don’t want to shuffle across the floor with my pants around my ankles and crack the door so you can hand me an extra roll because I’ve gone through the current supply. I don’t think you want this either.

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My single greatest fear in life is clogging a toilet in somebody else’s house and finding myself plunger-less. This fear is most likely the direct result of the time when I clogged a toilet in somebody else’s house and found myself plungerless. (This was on a first date with a hot chick and I ended up having to get very creative with a two-liter bottle of coke… nevermind, it’s too painful to think about.)I think it goes without saying that the only thing more embarrassing than taking a crap at someone else’s house, is sheepishly emerging from the bathroom to ask the host if they own a plunger.A plunger is a must, people. Put it next to the toilet or under the sink or anywhere in the bathroom for that matter. I’ll find it if I need it. Believe me.

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At home, I often times get comfortable on the throne with a good novel. I sometimes read many chapters and stay in the bathroom for ridiculously long periods of time. One time, I swear to god of your parents choice, I spent three full hours in the bathroom reading Ayn Rand’s, “The Fountainhead”. You do not want me in your bathroom for that long, trust me. But please, some magazines and such would be nice. Something that’s easy to read and not too long - Readers Digest is perfect. Anything pornographic is a bad idea.One time, I was dumping at someone’s house and they had a “Kid’s Guide to Anatomy” complete with large, full-color illustrations. I read all about the excretory system while I was excreting… and it blew my mind.

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Now, some of you may be asking, “Why would I have a vested interest in making you feel comfortable pooping in my bathroom?”

I’ll tell you why.

When I am not able to release my bowels, I get tense, nervous, standoff-ish, irritable, sweaty, etc. In other words, I am no longer the life of the party. When I become an introvert, it can have a real detrimental effect on the social scene in your house.

Case in point: One time I was at an apartment shared by three girls. They fed me Thai food which–surprise!–made me have to shit. Badly. Unfortunately for these three girls (and other house guests), when I went into their bathroom to “wash my hands” I came to the conclusion, through “calculated risk assessment”, that the “perceived level of comfort” in their bathroom was FAR below my acceptable standards.

The net effect was that, not only was I unable to crap, but in the eyes of most of the people in the house, I became “no fun.”

Well I got news for you - it’s awfully hard to be “fun” when every poke, tickle, and hug has the potential to unleash a gaseous, party-stopping fury.

Look, I think we can all agree on the fact that there’s nothing like your own toilet, an empty house, and all the free time in the world… which is why it should be common courtesy to provide guests in your home with a “foreigner friendly” environment in which to take care of business.

People that need a punch in the face

Filed Under (Random!) by Monkee on 29-03-2008

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Tom Cruise-

I just want to shock him into reality, to stop him jumping around like a monkey and saying how he is more knowledgeable than most on psychiatry and other issues. I just can,t see him as an action star and he reminds me of the subtly feminine over-compensating guy.

Skeet Ulrich-

His name alone elicits violence.

Rob Riener-

I just wanna knock the fat off him.

Sean Penn-

If you hadn’t bedded Madonna (and who hasn’t at this point) you’d have no career. Why is it that the fact that you pretend to be someone in a film makes you now have a better understanding of politics or whats best for the American populous.

Jane Fonda-

Just Google her name and read the tales of her whorning up the North Vietnamese while a few hundred thousand of our boys died.

Chevy Chase-

WTF? You were funny(20 years ago) now you are a sad mixture of self-loathing and saggy skin.

Hillary Clinton-

Your politics aside, your voice makes my testicle crawl into my body cavity every time I hear you. I cant have that!

K-fed-

Dude, you know why. You are the personification of Douchebag.

Wolf Blizter-

You stole my porn name!

Micheal Moore-

As you rail against the excesses in America I can see you getting fatter. Loose 200 lbs and Ill listen to you.