Monkeychapps.com

The Internet’s secret shame

To my farty boss and his bowels.

I hear you.

I hear you in there.

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

Worse: I smell you.

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

You 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

.
Listen, can’t you lay off the protein bars and egg whites and ostrich sausage in the mornings? Can you 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 you my paperwork because I don’t always hear you and sometimes I am very unpleasantly surprised by the greasy cloud that surrounds your work area.

I really like you. You’re a great boss. You 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 you. See a gastroenterological specialist already; I’ll even make the appointment!

I found this and wish to share. I myself am not a father but have three wonderful sisters and 5 lovely nieces. I have been accused of being overly protective but why else would God give me big muscles a menacing stare and a great knowledge of the legal system if not for their safety.  Did you know that the phrase ” I  repeated hit  him in the face with a flat iron because I was in fear for my safety” will let you walk free in most states?

http://www.smilespedia.com/10-simple-rules-for-dating-my-daughter-2/

When I was in high school I used to be terrified of my girlfriend’s father, who I believe suspected me of wanting to place my hands on his daughter’s chest. He would open the door and immediately affect a good-naturedly murderous expression, holding out a handshake that, when gripped, felt like it could squeeze carbon into diamonds.

Now, years later, it is my turn to be the dad. Remembering how unfairly persecuted I felt when I would pick up my dates, I do my best to make my daughter’s suitors feel even worse. My motto: wilt them in the living room and they’ll stay wilted all night.

“So,” I’ll call out jovially. “I see you have your nose pierced. Is that because you’re stupid, or did you merely want to APPEAR stupid?”

As a dad, I have some basic rules, which I have carved into two stone tablets that I have on display in my living room.
Rule One:
If you pull into my driveway and honk you’d better be delivering a package, because you’re sure not picking anything up.

Rule Two:
You do not touch my daughter in front of me. You may glance at her, so long as you do not peer at anything below her neck. If you cannot keep your eyes or hands off of my daughter’s body, I will remove them.

Rule Three:
I am aware that it is considered fashionable for boys of your age to wear their trousers so loosely that they appear to be falling off their hips. Please don’t take this as an insult, but you and all of your friends are complete idiots. Still, I want to be fair and open minded about this issue, so I propose this compromise: You may come to the door with your underwear showing and your pants ten sizes too big, and I will not object. However, In order to ensure that your clothes do not, in fact, come off during the course of your date with my daughter, I will take my electric nail gun and fasten your trousers securely in place to your waist.

Rule Four:
I’m sure you’ve been told that in today’s world, sex without utilizing a “barrier method” of some kind can kill you. Let me elaborate: when it comes to sex, I am the barrier, and I will kill you.

Rule Five:
In order for us to get to know each other, we should talk about sports, politics, and other issues of the day. Please do not do this. The only information I require from you is an indication of when you expect to have my daughter safely back at my house, and the only word I need from you on this subject is “early”

Rule Six:
I have no doubt you are a popular fellow, with many opportunities to date other girls. This is fine with me as long as it is okay with my daughter. Otherwise, once you have gone out with my little girl, you will continue to date no one but her until she is finished with you. If you make her cry, I will make you cry.

Rule Seven:
As you stand in my front hallway, waiting for my daughter to appear, and more than an hour goes by, do not sigh and fidget. If you want to be on time for the movie, you should not be dating. My daughter is putting on her makeup, a process that can take longer than painting the Golden Gate Bridge. Instead of just standing there, why don’t you do something useful, like changing the oil in my car?

Rule Eight:
The following places are not appropriate for a date with my daughter:
- Places where there are beds, sofas, or anything softer than a wooden stool.

- Places where there are no parents, policemen, or nuns within eyesight.

- Places where there is darkness.

- Places where there is dancing, holding hands, or happiness.

- Places where the ambient temperature is warm enough to induce my daughter to wear shorts, tank tops, midriff T-shirts, or anything other than overalls, a sweater, and a goose down parka zipped up to her throat.

- Movies with a strong romantic or sexual theme are to be avoided; movies which feature chainsaws are okay.

- Hockey games are okay.

- Old folks homes are better.

Rule Nine:
Do not lie to me. I may appear to be a potbellied, balding, middle-aged, dimwitted has-been. But on issues relating to my daughter, I am the all-knowing, merciless god of your universe. If I ask you where you are going and with whom, you have one chance to tell me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help you God. I have a shotgun, a shovel, and five acres behind the house. Do not trifle with me.

Rule Ten:
Be afraid. Be very afraid. It takes very little for me to mistake the sound of your car in the driveway for a chopper coming in over a rice paddy outside of Hanoi. When my Agent Orange starts acting up, the voices in my head frequently tell me to clean the guns as I wait for you to bring my daughter home. As soon as you pull into the driveway you should exit your car with both hands in plain sight. Speak the perimeter password, announce in a clear voice that you have brought my daughter home safely and early, then return to your car-there is no need for you to come inside. The camouflaged face at the window is mine.

Copyright 1998 W. Bruce Cameron
Please do not remove the copyright from this essay

(Walk over to her)”Ok, you can stand next to me, as long as you don’t talk about it.”

Did you know that the word ‘motel’ spelled backwards means ‘letom’?

HI! Can I buy you a car?

Want to see my stamp collection?

Most people would agree that society these days has lost a bit of it’s civility. It’s a shame.

You have excellent posture.

I may not be the best looking guy here, but I’m the only one talking to you.

Are you wearing space pants? Cause your butt is out of this world.

Has anyone ever told you that you have Scandinavian hands? (Uh, no.) No, of course not, that would be an incredibly stupid thing to say, wouldn’t it?

Wow, you have some sweet birthin’ hips.

Come live in my heart, and pay no rent.

Can I buy you a drink or do you just want the money?

Inheriting eighty million bucks doesn’t mean much when you have a weak heart.

I’m friendly and slow moving!

I have had, until recently, three refrigerators at one time. It’s a simple story, let’s see if you can follow. When I lived in Boise I had a rental in the northern part of the state that I had furnished with a new fridge (that makes two). I moved to north Idaho and into my rental and brought the fridge from Boise with me. The fridge that was already there I sat in the garage and just used it to cool soda.

I have since moved to Arizona and the house that is being built comes with all of the appliances that I will need and … and, a new fridge. Tada, simple right? Well not so simple when choosing to sell the fridge you don’t need. It’s new, or at least newer, clean and has been used a total of 7 months. It’s a $500 fridge that I just wanted gone for $150 so I thought the simplest way was to place an ad on Craig’s list.

This is how well it went.

Buyer #1 calls me at 7 am to ask if I am up yet. I am now I say and they tell me they will call back after 9. I say thank you for the warning and the lost sleep as I can’t go back to sleep one I am up.

Buyer #2 emails me from her blackberry to ask these very important questions.
a. What color is it.

I tell her same as I stated in the ad, white. Not off white. Not egg shell white, just very white.

b.Do you take checks?

No!

c.Any way you can run a master card?

If you want me to run it down the street yes but otherwise no.

d. So just cash right.

I will accept confederate bills and wampum but seeing as you have niether just cash.

e. Does it have a freezer? Have you ever seen a fridge that doesnt? Even the mini’s do.

f. Has it seen much action?

Are you asking if my fridge is a war verteran or a prostitute? Other that the fact that I wrote in the ad that was used for 7 months only and runs perfect I really can’t tell you more.

g. How are we gonna work this out?

I have no idea what you mean, all the times that I have purchased things there was the exchange of renumeration an then some heavy lifting followed by a brief period of leaving.

h. Well I just don’t know.

Well mam I don’t know either! I wish I could know enough for the bolth of us but I would have to charge you for that service and I don’t have the patience nor do you have the critical thinking skills for that to happen so I bid you good day.

I said good day!

A few day later a lady called and asked if I sill had it I said yes and I wanted to mention that it had a dime sized ding on it. I told her it was on the side on wouldnt show unless she placed in the middle of her living room. She said maybe she wants to place it in the middle of her living room and that I should take $20 of the price because of that. I told her that I’m not charging her for electrical cord or the plug. I told her the plug has three prongs which make it 50% better than most plugs. She laughed and agreed that that was a pretty good deal. She came over 10 minutes later, paid cash and her sons loaded up her new fridge on a truck.

What a sucker!

- I am a man.

This means the following:
- I complain
- I have a poor morning disposition (references upon request)
- I emit occasionally offensive odors
- I will embarrass you more than you embarrass me (extrapolated from historical data)
- I eat meat (see note above re: offensive odors)
- I employ logic to solve a problem
- Predicting my disposition is as simple as knowing my best score on “Tiger Wood’s Golf”
- I hate your ex-boyfriends
- I like fire, with or without the cigarettes
- I do stupid things like testing the absorbancy of spinach gnocchi at a dinner party whenever the conversation bores me
- I recognize that when someone utters the phrase “This is so fun/great/exciting/etc” they are internally miserable
- I lie, but only to avoid offending you (”Those jeans look great on you”)
- I listen to music that makes me feel good
- I say your friend is getting fat when I know darn well she weighs less than you do
- I hate PDA
- I think you have at least 2 hot friends
- I am messy
- I think your friends suck
- I am confident, mainly as a result of general indifference
- I smell like one of the following: cologne, soap, deoderant, your cigarette
- I am smart enough to know when to end a pointless argument
- I love me, with or without you

What I’m looking for:
- A woman

This means the following:
- You have a poor disposition (every 28th day or whenever you feel like blaming your own problems on me)
- You emit occasionally offensive noises (like that laugh you fake over the phone when responding to a joke you know isn’t funny)
- You are easily embarrassed (thanks to a genuine concern for what strangers think of you)
- You eat chicken and sushi
- You’re fun, whenever you’re not around your girlfriends (that Jessica turns you into such a bitch)
- Your arguments lack cohesive thought processes and logic (your solutions are most often supported by all the empirical evidence contained in the sentence “just because.”)
- Predicting your disposition requires an intimate knowledge of string theory
- You somehow cannot deduce that all of your ex-boyfriends are still aholes
- You like to smoke socially, but only so as not to feel excluded
- You do stupid things like use my toothbrush to fish your mascara out of the toilet, or open a toxic can of paint with a knife taken from the same drawer that the screwdriver is in
- You lack the ability to recognize that when you say “This is so fun/great/exciting/etc” that you are forcing it
- You are presumptuous (”Where are we going for dinner?”)
- You watch reality TV
- You listen to music that makes you cry
- You say you’re getting fat while wolfing down your 3rd slice of pizza
- You like PDA because you’re starved for attention
- You hate knowing I think your friends are hot, and tell me embarrassing stories about them behind their backs in an effort to make them seem less desirable, when in actuality, you’re making them seem more attainable
- You are somehow messier than I am, but it’s always my fault
- You think your friends suck more than I think they do, but you’ll never admit it
- You have self-esteem issues, mainly as a result of nothing I can control
- You always smell like your shampoo
- You hate it when I am smart enough to realize when pursuing an argument is futile (see note above re: logic)
- You love being with someone
- Deep down inside, you know all of this is true

I’m done with Walmart! Well at least done yelling at the inept clerks. They just look at me ,with eyes glazed, and breath through their mouth.

So, with that said, I have decided to freak their freak  by taking a new approach. I curse at them Shakespeare style. Yes, you too, can use the words of The Bard to blow their minds.

Thou spongy fly-bitten clack-dish!

Thou mangled guts-griping whey-face!

O, [thou art] as tedious as a tired horse, a railing wife, Worse than a smoky house.

Thou mewling tickle-brained blind-worm!

Use  these with caution as they are prone to make the stupid freak out and cry.

From soft baby at http://hashitout.com/

People can’t count.

Posted on December 29th, 2007 by rob2e

People can’t count. People take numbers for granted. Ask anyone how many numbers there are from one to ten. They’ll say ten. Ask that same person how many numbers there are from ten to twenty. They’ll say ten again.

When you point out how wrong they are, they actually get mad. Remember folks, most people who get mad or defensive about something know they’re wrong. They just don’t like having it pointed out to them.

In this specific example, you can prove it to them in various ways. Ten minus one equals nine, yet there are ten numbers from one to ten. It’s called adding the fence post. Any time you want to know how many numbers are from X to Y inclusive, you subtract X from Y and add one. That’s the fence post. So from ten to twenty — twenty minus ten is ten plus the fence post equals eleven. There are ELEVEN numbers from ten to twenty. Further, you can actually count it out on your fingers. People think this is some kinda bar trick or deception. Nope. They’re just dumb. When you go through this process with them, they’ll invariably say something like, “Well, that’s stupid.”

“No. YOU’RE stupid.”

It’s like 2006 having Super Bowl XL (40 for non Romans). When you ask people when the first Super Bowl was, they always say 1966. WRONG AGAIN! It was 1967. Remember the fence post. Look it up for Christ’s sake. Hell if not for the son of God, then look it up for your OWN sake. Don’t be an idiot.

Another one is when something happens for the first time (let’s just say a company picnic) and then when the next one rolls around a year later, people refer to it as the second anniversary of the company picnic. NO! Second ANNUAL, yes. Second anniversary, no. It’s the FIRST anniversary. What is the problem with this math today? Dummies.

And what about military time. It’s SO FUCKING EASY. People make it hard. It’s not. Any hour that is bigger than 12 you subtract 12. That’s it. That’s the whole formula. 1300 = 1:00. 1900 = 7:00. 2330 = 11:30. MORONS!

You know what? If any of this applies to you, you probably can’t read anyway. And you’re not going to give me kudos on this blog because you don’t know what kudos means. And you’re probably Christian.

But if I may offer you some advice for life in general regarding math (in the immortal words of Mr. Tom Hanks on an episode of Family Ties where he says to Jennifer) –”If all else fails, X = 8.”

It has been very warm the last few days. All the compacted snow that is middle of the street is slowly turning to slush. My Nemesis and I haven’t dueled for a while. There’s just no snow.

At midday I drive to Costco to get my favorite treat, a hotdog. Those sweet buttery hot-doggery treats, I blog about those as well but Ill try to stick to the topic at hand.

As I return my eyes widen as I witness him shoveling the ice from the street directly in front of his house . WTF? Nobody does this, its stupid and just plain wrong. I cant imagine, in my wildest dreams doing something so silly and truly odd. Standing in the middle of the street on shoveling ice and slush while avoiding the odd car that might pass. Its the kinda thing that brings the police and gets you a 72 hour vacation at the state hospital. Have I driven him to this? Have my taunts and stink eyes pushed him over the edge?

I watch him , relishing the state of dementia that I have seemed to unleashed upon him. I start to feel bad, but then I pick up Sun Tzu’s “the art of war” and keep reading. Even 13th century Chinese warfare can help me.

Today was a victory, though a sad one a victory non the less.