Thursday, August 18, 2011
Useless Buzzwords
I have survived three perfect storms.
But that's the 20,000 foot view. Let's drill down. You got the bandwidth?
I capture eyeballs. I push the envelope to the bleeding edge. I don't have "fulfillment issues".
I juice low-hanging fruit, drink the Kool-Aid, sell the sizzle and chuck the steak. What's on your plate?
I once leveraged an entire bucket of secret sauce.
I'd love to move forward; but I'm at my wits' end.
#UselessBuzzwords
Monday, March 1, 2010
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Delicious Chalsa
Friday, February 5, 2010
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Flu Shots
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
KSL
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Get Off My Lawn
Canada’s newly armed border guards have claimed their first victim: a hapless moose. The creature was felled by the duty sidearm of a border officer in late August, newly disclosed documents show. The incident — marking the first time a border-guard sidearm has been discharged on duty — occurred about 25 kilometres west of Creston, B.C., as an unidentified intelligence officer with the Canada Border Services Agency was driving on official business to Nelson, B.C.
Sounds aboot right.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Is Anyone Out There?
Monday, April 27, 2009
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Celebrex Will Fucking Kill You
Did you happen to notice that the commercial, 1) was over two minutes long, 2) consisted almost solely of side effects, 3) used said side effects as pretty much the entire visual aesthetic, and 4) ended with the tagline: "Celebrex: Understand the risks, see the benefits."? Cause honestly, when you put that shit together, you've gotta wonder -- why bother making a commercial in the first place?! I think the daredevils with sore joints will come out of the woodwork on their own.
I also think 30 seconds is plenty of time to list all the ways Celebrex is going to end your life. Just list the side-effects in rapid succession like one of those "NOW! That's what I call 80's!" CD commercials; I don't need to be led around a creepy blue world of death. But the most troubling part has to be the tagline. What do they mean by "Understand the risks"? Do they mean, like, understand that they quite clearly outweigh the benefits? Because I get that. I get that internal bleeding is worse than sensitive knuckles.
Do yourself a favor. Take Advil or something. It (probably) won't kill you. And that that candy shell they coat the pills with is fucking delicious.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Fuck Seeds
That's fucking why.
Don't ever question my irrational fears. This is serious. Remember as a kid, eating apples, oranges, grapefruit, and your parents would warn: "Don't swallow the seeds or a tree will grow inside you." And you were like, "Stomach trees? That's some fantastical bullshit, Mom. Tell me another one." Well, in case you still haven't clicked the link...
That shit is fucking true! From the article: "A five-centimeter branch is too large to be inhaled or swallowed, doctors say. They suggest that the patient might have inhaled a small bud, which then started to grow inside his body."
Fuck that. I will never scavenge the forest floor for tree buds and ingest them through my nostrils ever again.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
In the year 2000...
In the year two thousand...
The world will come to view the capacity for canine intellect in a new light when internal memos surface proving “Beverly Hills Chihuahua” was written and directed by actual Chihuahuas.
In the year two thousaaaaaaaaaaand...
The Chicago Cubs will finally win the World Series, moments before giant locusts swarm the stadium and decimate the city.
In the year two thousand...
Captain Hook will confess that he is a pedophile. Which doesn’t really explain the hook, but sure explains why he lives on an island filled with unsupervised children.
In the year two thousaaaaaaaaaaand...
Bristol Palin will announce the birth of her third child "Turnip Bang-Bang Stick Check Palin" during an appearance on her mother’s daytime talk show, “The Asinine View”.
In the year two thousand...
In an unprecedented cross-promotional media blitz, The Department of Defense will collaborate with Burger King for the launch of the “Pentagonal Quintuple Stack Draft Burger”. The five-sided, five-patty burger will come with large fries, a Coke, and a government issued draft card.
In the year two thousaaaaaaaaaaand...
On a dare, Larry King will be asked to take off his suspenders. Not wanting to back down on live television, he agrees, immediately regretting the choice as his skin and bones collapse into a pile of dust.
In the year two thousand...
Scientists will determine that apples have no special ability to keep doctors away; malpractice suits, however, seem to do the trick.
In the year two thousaaaaaaaaaaand...
An entry from L. Ron Hubbard’s long-lost diary will reveal that he made Scientology up to spite Hollywood for passing on his screenplay, “Xenu: Intergalactic Overlord”.
In the year two thousand...
San Diego will be become the most populace city in the U.S. after the Tijuana Chamber of Commerce airs a controversial Super Bowl ad showing the softer side of Donkey Shows.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Friday, February 6, 2009
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Drugged Up At The Dentist
I was given a Valium prior to the surgery, laughing gas to put me under, and Vicodin to ease the pain -- not that I felt anything whatsoever, aside from absolute ecstasy. The high was truly special. I was euphoric, yet thoroughly confused. I wasn't exactly sure what had happened to me, or why I had giant holes in the back of my mouth. And I fell up a flight of stairs, because walking one foot after another seemed like a cop out. Or maybe too complex.
Given my age at the time, I was able to deal with the whole thing in relative stride -- minus the upstairs tumble, at least. But I absolutely cannot imagine a 7-year-old having to deal with this. It must be like trying to grasp calculus, or Tyra Banks' jokes. I really don't know how I would've taken being that high as a first grader. Thankfully, this poor sap's father caught his experience on video...
No, young David, you won't feel like that forever... but someday, someday soon, you might wish you did.
Friday, January 16, 2009
The Misunderestimated President
In a few short days President Bush will hoof it back to Crawford and revert to his true calling: semi-pro brush-clearer. For all intents and purposes, his would-be presidential legacy has been reduced to a steaming pile of elephant shit. All thanks to a floundering economy. Well, that and a few other minor hitches. Point is, Bush II will probably never be remembered as the trailblazing, war president; rather, he'll be known as the guy who didn't stop reading a children's book to a class of 1st graders when a gigantic plane flew into the WTC, and stood by idly as the housing market crumbled into an equally large heap of rubble. What I've just described, however, is merely a version of reality.
According to "The Bush Boom", authored by Gary Busey (could it really be anyone else?), everything is just fine. Bush didn't fuck the economy up; he fixed it! We're boomin'. We're on the up-and-up. We're... not totally and completely fucked, we're just thinning the economic herd. Now, admittedly, the book hasn't been getting the best reviews on Amazon. The bad reviews outnumber the good by a margin of 2-to-1. Silly union workers. However, there have been several glowing 5-star reviews, like this one:
“Finally! A book that proves the existence of an alternate universe. Obviously, a rip in the space/time continuum between this universe and the other universe where Bush is presiding over a 'boom economy opened up and this book fell through. Can there be ANY other explanation?”
See! Bush didn't -- wait, what? Ironclad proof of an alternate universe? I guess the legacy is back on track; it's only a matter of time before he tries to take credit for this one.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Casting Fo Paw
But "Stage Triton" is different. He's dancing all over the place, singing falsetto like Mariah Carey in that video where she's on roller skates. (Come to think of it, Stage Triton is on roller skates.) I'm sure the aim is to give the illusion that he's underwater. But it's just embarrassing. I mean, the guy's supposed to bellow, not pleeay. (Yes, I just spelled that phonetically. Two reasons: first, I'm too lazy figure out how to make an accent over the "e"; and second, because I, unlike the hybrid-driving, cage-free-egg-eating borzwa, don't feel obligated to insert dumb, correctly spelled French words into every day conversation, just because it's sheek, or whatever. And if you think I should've figured out how to make an accent, instead of go on a mildly nationalist tirade, you can mange du merde et meurt.) In case you were wondering, there's no such thing as "too lazy to look up insults." And as you probably guessed already, there's absolutely no such thing as too lazy to insult the casting department of "The Little Mermaid" on Broadway. They had it coming.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Take It From An Eye Doctor
I don't know if you watched that whole video, but if you decided to sit through it out perverse curiosity like I did, you're probably thinking, "Wait a second, if all the mass in the universe can be collapsed into the size of a bowling ball, and we're all made of energy and vibrating strings, and a cell doesn't really have any mass, and the definition of disease is 'we have transformed our energy state' then... HOW THE FUCK DID THIS WOMAN GET A FUCKING DOCTORATE IN MOTHERFUCKING OPTOMETRY!!!??"
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Through The Wire
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
You Know The Answering Machine Message You Just Left Is Absurd When...
1) Don headphones.
2) Behold: the funniest thing you'll hear today.
So... did he get the job... or?
Friday, November 14, 2008
A Series Of Unfortunate Events
It all began earlier this afternoon, innocently enough, with a craving for Sabra hummus. Sabra hummus—in my opinion—is far and away the best on the market. If you haven’t tried it, you’ll have to take my word for it. If you have, you know exactly what I’m talking about. The trouble with Sabra is that it’s scantly available, even in Queens, where I live, and where it’s allegedly produced. Further, the best variety, Jalapeño, is only available in one supermarket—on 34th Ave. in Astoria, if you’re in the neighborhood.
Living only 7 blocks away, you’d think I wouldn’t have a problem taking the short 5-minute walk to purchase it. You’d be wrong. Instead, I routinely buy plain Sabra hummus around the corner, along with jalapeños, and make my own. Even though it’s more work. And more expensive.
I suppose, given my sloth, I deserve what happened next. Shortly after making the hummus, I noticed a slight, shall we say “twang” in my nose. Within a few minutes this twang became what I can only describe as, Satan and his minions setting fire to my nostrils.
Before too long, the pain was unbearable. I quickly googled my condition: “jalapeño in nose”, and hit “I’m feeling lucky”, even though I wasn’t. Not surprisingly, I arrived at the web’s premiere destination for horrible advice, bad puns, and wise-ass 14-year-olds: Yahoo! Answers. It’s usually the first result on Google when a question is posed that would never affect a respected, moderately-functioning member of society.
Here’s the question, word for word:
“OMG, HELP, I am on fire. Jalepeno juice? I cleaned a bunch of jalepenos, yes, I wore gloves. But some how it still got on my nose. My god, it burns like hell. Does anyone know how to stop the burning? OUCH I look like a drunk with a RED nose.” -Cheryl
Pretty spot on. I felt “Cheryl’s” pain, and sensed the amalgam of utter dread and anguish in her hurried words. The answers to the question were varied. Most were helpful. You can see for yourself, here. I began running down the list—completely at the whim of the Yahoo! Answers community—willing to try anything. This is never a good place to find yourself.
I ignored the guy who said to “put tomatoes or catsup” up there. First off, anyone who spells ketchup like that can’t be trusted. I also skipped over milk, for the time being, opting for vinegar. Maybe using balsamic threw it off, but it sure as hell didn’t work. I tried lemon juice next, soaking a Q-tip with lemon juice and swabbing the inside of my nostrils like a doctor testing for strep. No dice. Nose still on fire, I read the next piece of advice:
“I hear that sticking bread up your nose will stop the burning, but it may interfer with breathing...whatever
AND please do not pour milk down your nose! This is a case where the cure is worse than the disease! :-)”
“May interfer with breathing”? I figured doing the opposite of what this guy said was probably my best bet. So I started sucking milk with a straw, strait through my right nostril. If there’s such a thing as gargling milk with one’s nose, I think I achieved it today. Unfortunately, it didn’t have the desired effect. The nose-fire persisted.
Running out of options, I tried the last advice: soak a paper towel with water and sugar. “Fuck it,” I thought, as I jabbed a wad of saccharine tissue into my nostril. I hate to leave you hanging, but that’s pretty much where I stand as I write this. I figured I’d jot this whole mess down before I forgot the agony. The pain seems to be subsiding, as the sugar’s mostly dry, and seems to be forming a strange, inflexible shell around my nose and mouth. I’ll let you know how it goes. I'm not terribly hopeful.