October 31, 2006
Remind Me Never to Lend Her My Keys
Last night, I found myself parking my car in my apartment building’s parking garage at the same time that a fellow resident was parking her car. Despite parental warnings, I usually choose to talk to strangers, even in that incredibly awkward place more commonly known as the elevator.
Thinking Fool: How was your day?
Random Resident: It was great, thank you.
Thinking Fool: That’s good to hear.
Random Resident: Yeah, I’m just really tired. I went to a Halloween party tonight and can’t remember ever consuming that much alcohol in my life.
Thinking Fool: (Thinking) Maybe they don't have DUI laws in Virginia. Please don’t breed. Please don’t breed. Please don’t breed. I wonder if she knows the female resident who was doing yoga naked in front of her television the other night. Now there's someone who should breed and breed often. Why does this place shut down its business center at 9 p.m.? This elevator really needs a makeover. It looks like a used, five-year-old Mr. Potato head doll because of all the missing parts. I can't believe I deleted Studio 60 from my TIVO season pass. But, why should I get invested in a show that is going to get canceled before Texas executes another inmate. Hmm, all that talk on my blog about last meals has made me hungry. Have a wonderful rest of the night. You might consider calling a cab next time, you moron.
Have a happy and safe Halloween and stay away from psychiatrists named Loomis.
Posted by fool at 12:59 AM | Comments (3)October 30, 2006
The Truth Shall Set You Free
“When I was in England, I experimented with Marijuana a time or two, and I didn’t like it, and didn’t inhale and never tried it again.”
~William Jefferson Clinton, 42nd President of the United States, March 29, 1992
To quote a former babysitter, "WHAT KIND OF BULLSHIT WAS THAT?!?" At least the man gave us ample warning that he was going to lie about rather trivial matters. Compare Clinton's words to the following:
“Look, you know, when I was a kid, I, uh, I inhaled, uh, frequently. That was, uh, that, that was the point!"
~Barack Obama, U.S. Senator from Illinois, October 23, 2006
How refreshing! A politician actually told the truth!
I don’t know enough about Obama to opine about whether he’d be a good president. However, I certainly like his style at this point. If he got caught having an affair with a White House intern, I can only suspect that he'd diffuse the situation quickly by telling the truth.
In the spirit of an eye examination, Better A...
“I did not have sexual relations with that woman!”
~President Clinton, January 26, 1998
... or B?
“Look, I admit that, uh, when I was in my first term, I, uh, I, uh, well, I came, uh, inside her frequently. That was, uh, that was the whole point. I mean, she was a damn good looking intern, much better looking than that hag President Clinton ended up with. And no, I’m not talking about his wife.”
~President Obama, January 26, 2014Posted by fool at 12:19 AM | Comments (3)
October 26, 2006
Another One Bites the Dust!
Yesterday, the state of Florida executed serial killer Danny Rolling.
In 1990, Rolling murdered five college students in a string of grisly murders that left University of Florida students and their parents gripped with fear.
Even though I was barely in the double digit years, I remember hearing reports about Rolling's crimes, which included decapitating one young woman, placing her head on a shelf, and posing the rest of her body as if it were sitting comfortably in a chair.
Needless to say, the world will not miss this guy.
However, as is customary when one of these bastards finally gets flushed down the toilet, anti death penalty advocates were out in full force to protest the execution.
According to Mark Elliott, spokesman for Floridians for Alternatives to the Death Penalty, “The state of Florida is giving this psychopathic killer just what he wanted.”
Well, in that case, Mr. Elliott, I’d say this is one of those rare executions that ended up being a win-win for everyone involved!
Well done, Florida. Very Well done.
Posted by fool at 12:11 AM | Comments (9)October 24, 2006
Nothing Says Loving like a Colt 47 Pointed in the Direction of the Pop Warner Coach's Head!
According to the Philadelphia Police Department, on Sunday morning, 40-year-old Wayne Derkotch pulled a gun on his son’s football coach after confronting the coach about his son’s lack of playing time.
Seems reasonable, no?
At the risk of being insensitive – Mr. Derkotch’s son is either six or seven years old – is anybody else interested in participating in a “How old will Mr. Derkotch’s son be when the son gets arrested for the first time” pool? (I'm not entirely certain how we'd run this pool, but "Pretty" or some other regular reader probably can come up with something sensible.)
As someone who is childless, I don't pretend to know what it's like to be a parent. However, as a former Little League Umpire, basketball referee, and current observer of the world, I am well aware that as soon as the child comes slithering out of the womb (they do come slithering out, don’t they?), the dormant "crazy gene" in parents gets activated. That's the only way to explain how once rational people become completely irrational (well, converting to radical Islam might be another explanation, but I digress).
In the most extreme cases, the activation of the crazy gene results in parents vastly overestimating their children's abilities, especially when the children are quite young. All of a sudden, five-year-old Johnny is going to be the next Derek Jeter while seven-year-old Susie is going to be the next Christie Brinkley.
It doesn't matter that Johnny's eye-hand-coordination is so horrendously awful that he can barely touch his pecker let alone hit a baseball, or that circus owners across the world keep begging Susie's parents to allow them to feature her in a new exhibit called, "The Elephant Man's Daughter!"
Facts will not stand in the way of how these parents view their young children. (Kind of like how facts do not stand in the way of how George Bush views the war in Iraq or how Democrats view the economy.)
For some of these intensely crazy parents, their children will always be superstars, always brimming with promising potential. Even after Susie’s gotten knocked up by five different men (two of whom are from different races) and Johnny’s become addicted to crystal meth and hookers, the parents know that their superstars will find a way to shine in life.
For the less crazy parents, the harsh reality starts to set in. Their children – once potential superstars – are really destined to become nothing more than average douche bag adults who will lie, steal, and cheat as long as it means getting ahead.
My hunch is that Wayne Derkotch will be the intensely crazy parent until the day he dies. After all, if you can’t get through the first seven years of your child’s life without pulling a gun on a coach, odds are that you’re going to have some rough times over the next dozen years.
So, I wish his son well (unless I draw a particularly young age in the “When will he commit a felony” pool). But for the sake of the rest of us, I ask Mr. Derkotch to consider a vasectomy. It’s the only way to ensure that he'll comply with his duties as the most recent addition to the “People Who Should Never Procreate (again in his case)” list.
Posted by fool at 01:46 AM | Comments (7)October 23, 2006
Conversations at Work: Volume XXII
If you're like Garfield, Monday isn't your favorite day of the week. In the spirit of getting the week off to an uplifting start, I'd like to share a recent conversation from work.
Last week, the Boss’ Secretary annoyed Coworker #1 much more than usual. At one point, Coworker #1 just couldn't take it anymore, so he marched into my office.
Coworker #1: How is it that people die everyday from accidents, yet she's not one of them?
I think it's safe to say that the three-month truce between the two has officially ended.
October 20, 2006
Random Brain Drain
1. Last night on the Game Show Network, a contestant was asked to name the first black Justice of the Supreme Court. He replied, “Rehnquist.”
William Rehnquist, former Chief Justice of the United States, was many things, but black wasn’t one of them.
What exactly happens in schools these days, aside from teachers banging students and Amish children getting massacred? Is history still taught or have we abandoned that subject in favor of something far more important like “How to do well on a standardized test!”?
2. Did you happen to catch the Reverend Tony Mercieca’s recent comments about Mark Foley? Mercieca is the priest who Foley alleges molested him when he was a young teenager.
“I touched him also, you know. But I didn’t, uh, because it’s not something you call, I mean, um, rape or penetration or anything like that, you know. We [were] just fondling!”
When the questioner asked if he thought he was doing anything wrong when he fondled Foley, Reverend Mercieca had a rather joyful tone in his voice.
“I didn’t! (Nearly breaks out in laughter.) He really seemed to like it, you know. So it was more, sort of more like a spontaneous thing.”
As long as the fondling was both enjoyable (to the young teenage boy) and spontaneous (which is really the key), I guess it’s okay.
3. What do you really think happened when Scott Petersen offed Lacy? Did the prosecution ever come up with a theory? I don’t recall one.
4. As long as you’re thinking about murders, do you know if anyone figured out who the hell murdered Chandra Levy?
5. Finally, when a coworker is completely worthless (I mean has about as much worth at the office as a penny does on the street), leaves the office for hours at a time, and lies more than Pinocchio and that stupid bastard who was always crying about the phantom wolf combined, what should you do? An inquiring mind wants to know.
Posted by fool at 01:23 AM | Comments (10)October 19, 2006
I'll Gladly Pay you in Two Minutes for a Five Dollar Bill Today
Since moving into my new apartment, I’ve been about as good about remembering things as Ronald Reagan was the year before he died (or during the final years of his administration for that matter!). On two recent occasions, I’ve left my place without bringing my wallet with me. In the four years of living at my other apartment, I never forgot my wallet. Not once. Maybe it's something in the air.
The most recent forgetful moment left me in a fairly precarious position at the post office on Saturday. I desperately needed to mail something to my landlord before the post office closed. Unfortunately, I didn’t realize I had forgotten my wallet until I was standing in line and heard the postman tell the woman behind me, “You are the last customer of the day. The post office is officially closed once you conduct your business. So, if people line up behind you, tell them that they’ll get as much help from me as Mark Foley will from the National Organization to Protect Children.”
When I realized my gaffe, I turned to the woman behind me, and, in an incredibly sheepish manner, asked if she would lend me five dollars. Much to my surprise, she readily agreed. (Part of me thinks she was relieved when she heard my request because when I turned to speak to her, she seemed more nervous than she would be if she bet her life savings on Gerald Ford still being alive when 2007 rolls around. For all I know, she might have expected me to ask her for a blow job or perhaps even a green card. (Apparently, both requests are quite common at post offices these days. At least, that’s what I’ve heard.))
As collateral for the loan, I could only offer my word, which usually isn’t exactly a valuable commodity with total strangers (unless you’re Scott Petersen and happen to meet a total stranger/slut commonly known as Amber Frey. Then your word is like an extra large bottle of K-Y Jelly, a winning lottery ticket, and a Shaq-sized member combined.).
In any event, I explained that I had five dollars in my car, but was fearful that if I went out to get it before I mailed my item, the postman would refuse to let me back in the joint. I insisted that as soon as I mailed my priority envelope, I would rush to my car, get the five dollars, and bring it back to her.
I am happy to inform you that as soon as I finished up with the postman, I raced to my car, got in, grabbed the five dollars from the glove department, and then sped away without paying the woman. It was quite simply the most productive trip I’ve ever made to a post office.
I know, I know. I should have paid her. That would have been the “right” thing to do. But friends, I was certain she was in this country illegally, so I was pretty confident she wouldn’t go to the police, and guess what, so far, so good! Plus, as an immigrant, she’s got to know that you should never trust strangers, right? Isn’t that what adults are always telling children? So I actually did her a favor in the long run.
Actually, I’m pleased to report that I paid her back immediately, and with interest too!
Anytime you go to a post office, convince a stranger to loan you money, and don’t end up getting shot by a postal employee, I’d say that’s a pretty good day.
In other news, there was a condom on the floor during my metro ride home last night. I tried to pick it up, but it kept slipping out of my hand.
I'll be here all week.
Posted by fool at 12:58 AM | Comments (3)October 12, 2006
Necesito Interneto
1. It is incredibly difficult to maintain a blog if you don't have internet access at home. It is tough to get internet access at home if you work a full-time job. It is... well, you get the point. In any event, I'm working on it.
2. In the interim, go see The Departed. After two very crappy films, Scorsese is back!
3. If anyone knows why the Orange Line stations recently smelled like fifteen NFL teams urinated all over the floor, by all means, let me know.
4. Speaking of the Orange Line, to all you D.C.-Subway-Using-Red-Line-HATING people, what is your problem? The Red Line is to the Orange Line what Heidi Klum is to that lady with all the eye shadow on the Drew Carey Show.
5. When a plane crashes into a building and we find out that the pilot didn't call out to Allah in the final seconds of the flight, I'd say we received some good news, all things considered.
Posted by fool at 10:35 PM | Comments (9)October 09, 2006
Well, It Sort of Happened Like This
During my second year of law school, I was on a callback interview with a big firm in my hometown. After a very long day of interviewing, which included a lengthy lunch, the firm insisted that I let two associates take me to dinner. (If you can’t tell, I was about as excited about this Friday-night dinner as I was when the dentist who removed my wisdom teeth told me to grab the arm rest before he cleaned out two dry sockets because “this will hurt.” That was fun.)
At dinner, one of the two attorneys ordered Carpaccio as an appetizer. For those of you who are unaware, Carpaccio is thinly sliced raw beef.
I don’t know about you, but when I order beef – it doesn’t matter if it’s at In-N-Out or Ruth’s Chris – I request that my meat is “well done.” Yes, I know this makes me a dining savage and loser in some of your eyes, but for those of you who hold that view, you can respectfully “Go fuck yourselves!”
When the Carpaccio arrived, the female attorney asked if I’d like some. I respectfully declined.
Even though I declined in a very gracious manner, the female attorney seemed quite surprised by my unflinching refusal to eat the thinly-sliced raw meat. Sensing her bewilderment and partial disdain, I decided to do some damage control.
Thinking Fool: You’re a little peeved that I won’t eat the Carpaccio, aren’t you?
Female Attorney: No, it’s fine. Really.
Thinking Fool: No, really, you’re pissed. I can tell.
Female Attorney: Well, honestly, I just think it’s really rude that you won’t even try it.
Thinking Fool: I respect that; I really do. But you have to respect me here. I’m in my mid-20s. I'm not six. I know that I don’t like meat that is raw.
Female Attorney: (Flippantly) I still think you should try it.
Thinking Fool: (Sensing that I had lost the war, but determined to at least win a battle) Well, let me try a hypo on you. Pretend that I was interviewing you for a fancy job and my colleague and I took you out to dinner. During that dinner, what would you say if I asked you to give me a blow job?
Female Attorney: (Stunned look as to say, “WHAT???”)
Thinking Fool: That’s exactly my point. I don’t mean to be crude, but you wouldn’t want to put my raw meat in your mouth, and I sure as hell don’t want to put yours in mine.
Much to my surprise, that firm didn’t extend me an offer.
Posted by fool at 01:48 AM | Comments (8)October 03, 2006
A few thoughts before bed...
I was wrong. It turns out Studio 60 is quite entertaining.
Also entertaining - the Korean-American man on the Metro this evening who spoke in a thick Korean accent upon boarding the train and then lost more and more of his accent at each stop until he had no accent whatsoever by the time he got off. I have no idea what this guy was up to, but I certainly like it.
What I don't like is being asked every single day by the same lazy homeless man if I can, "Spare a little change today." Maybe when he stops asking, I'll start giving. Where's Michael Douglas when you need him?
Posted by fool at 01:19 AM | Comments (13)
