Still Waiting

I went to the museum today. I think I should be able to take a puppy to the museum. Glad you asked, there are two primary reasons. 1. having a puppy would be a great way to approach the overwhelming number of seemingly single women at the museum. Of course, the second I go to the museum with the express purpose of trying to meet women, the place will no doubt look like a ponytail and goatee convention. It will look nothing like today, when I was trying to get my 14-year-old niece stoked on stuff she couldn't care less about. 2. having a puppy would spruce up the less than exciting moments at the museum. Seriously impressionism, get your shit together.

I also pondered one of life's greatest mysteries whilst traipsing around the city: do you buy the yellow car because you've got the questionable facial hair, or do you grow the questionable facial hair once you purchase the yellow car? Indeed.

Someone Honestly Just Asked Me

"Greg, do you file taxes?"

Holy fuck. I gotta get a new job.



Sweet mother of god, this same person just walked into the office with roach coach chinese. It smells like someone dumped ammonia into a bucket, put a gout-ridden foot into the bucket, peed on that and finally dumped some general tso's in. Imma throw up.

A Quick Rant

So, I get to work with some interesting people. Most of them are strong evidence in the case against natural selection. Frankly if such a thing existed, most of them wouldn't have survived beyond their teens. One of my favorites, and a shining example of all things wonderful about my workplace, is a spunky gal who goes by the self-ascribed nickname of Bootsy*.

She stole my heart when she threw a party a couple years ago. The party flier was a thing of beauty. It featured sexy glamour shots of the host and asked attendees to bring "donations". The donations part is funny because this wasn't a fundraiser. Well, it wasn't a fundraiser for anything other than Bootsy. I can't really express how awesome this flier was. I should have scanned it and started a web site devoted to this flier. I should have gotten it airbrushed onto a license plate for the car I don't own and gotten it tattooed on my ass. It was that good.

I'm writing about Bootsy today because one of my favorite quotes from her is the following:

"Oh, I am a personal trainer. I do it out of my house."

Now, I guess I should mention that Bootsy is a good 20 pounds over weight. And not 20 pounds over some crazy bullshit ideal of a rail-thin woman. She's 20 pounds over what a healthy person of her age should probably weigh. Also, as a personal trainer, she makes some interesting food choices. Today, I watched her make a tuna salad (I could smell the spackle of mayonnaise) sandwich on Wonderbread. This thing was piled high with arterie clogging goodness. I guess that wouldn't have been so bad, but 20 minutes later when I went back into the lunch room she was preparing another vile sandwich.

Bootsy, my hat is off to you, your flier and your misguided thoughts on health and nutrition.











*I changed this just a bit for obvious reasons, and because I'm not 100% sure what the actual nickname is.