Friday, January 30, 2009
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Monday, January 26, 2009
Friday, January 23, 2009
Thursday, January 22, 2009
I do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my Ability, GET FREAKY!!!
Yeah ... you heard that right.
Barrack Obama is shaping up to be the best American President ever!
Watch him shut down the CIA's secret prison network.
Watch him reclaim international goodwill.
Watch him manually pleasure his wife ... TO THE EXTREME!
Maybe it's Michelle who is the top ... I dunno and it ain't my business. But it really does feel like a new day has dawned in America, doesn't it?
Seriously, I know of one 'expert' whose face is going to be red when she looks up fisting on the Urban Dictionary.
at 7:03 PM
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Realize I am - for a living - shaking down Elvis impersonators for ten percent.
Resolve to do better -- and shake fifteen percent from future Elvis impersonators.
This job rocks! I am going to try to wear pants during my working hours. I swear - some of you may have done some excellent book keeping or phone answering, Some of you may have even designed award winning advertisements.
But I'll bet none of you got to threaten an Elvis impersonator for two hundred bucks!
I Do some real hard thinking about myself.
Do I want to shake down fake Elvis's (or Elvii) for a living wage?
Or do I want to sell inferior electronics and try to make a profit from selling an extended warranty that will soon be useless as the company is in bankruptcy protection?
Hmmm... If only I had a barbershop quartet fight to break up. That might help me make up my mind.
Those Barbershop quartet guys can really drink.
I never realized the East Coast/West Coast Barbershop rivalry could be so brutal.
Harmonious Rex and The Mellomen tore into each other like animals. They pull hair ... they bite ... they punch groins of honourable men who are just trying to do their job and keep the peace. God help me ... I don't want to sing soprano - I just don't want the cops to show ... OUCHHH!
I don a proper pant, shirt and tie.
I complete much cancer and alternative energy research.
My balls still hurt from the punching, but ...
No officer, I really couldn't identify those guys in a line up.
That could be any barbershop quartet who threatened to punch me in the balls again if I called the police.
The straw boater hats and striped shirts make them all look the same.
Thank you, officer - you do good work. I'll call you if I remember anything.
at 1:09 AM
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
The shaving of my face and scalp happened today. Three loads of laundry were done yesterday. Four out of five people conclude - I do not smell as bad as I once did.
The one differing opinion doesn't ever think I smell respectable and is, by all accounts, immune to my musky charms. I dismiss this opinion slightly more quickly than I dismiss all other opinions.
Pants were worn (pajama bottoms count as pants, don't they?) and my job was attended. Some of my job was even accomplished. Bar orders were made - Suppliers were yelled at - Power Point presentations were updated.
My co-workers went for beer after work. I joined them and, using all my will power, stuck to black coffee.
I was very proud of myself so when I got home I treated myself by immediately disrobing and a drinking a bottle of Scotch.
There is still much work to be done.
Woke up around noon to the news I had to be at work in 45 minutes. Despite this setback, I still manage to hose myself off, find a Mr. T shirt (on which he claims to "Pity The Fool") and fashion a crude skirt from unused wrapping paper and leftover chewing gum from my stocking.
Since I have clean pants I am as puzzled by this behaviour as everyone around me.
City officials and camera crews were babysat while commercials were filmed. I almost kept it together but lost points by forgetting to cross my legs. I'm not used to sitting in an Xmas wrap skirt.
Upon returning home, Barb tells me I smell of stale booze and despair.
Woke up at noon - fairly straight as long as pills don't count. They WERE prescribed by a doctor.
Not to me, but aren't we all the same underneath?
I feel I'm backsliding. I don't work until 5 p.m. and I refuse to wear pants until the last minute. This policy makes fetching the mail and blue box from the end of the lane both predictably chilly and strangely arousing.
Don't let anyone tell you I'm not the SOUL of compromise ... as I am convinced to put on pants at 4:55 for my entrance into the building. Once I get into my office, anything goes, so please knock first.
The rest of my shift was fairly uneventful until the end of the night when (not lying here) I had to shake down an Elvis impersonator for our share of the merchandise sales.
I come home, pour myself a drink and make a blog entry ...
(the question mark at the end leads you to believe it might not really be the end)
at 2:55 AM
Monday, January 5, 2009
Normal blogging activity will resume shortly.
We are currently in Phase One of 'Operation Start-Acting-Like-A-Normal-Adult-Who-Shaves-And-Bathes-Semi-Regularly-And-Quit-Behaving-Like-A -Booze-Fueled-Sociopath-Who-Refuses-To-Wear-Pants'.
Anyone with a less wordy operation name is encouraged to contact management.
Yours in a special, special way,
The Aging Hipster
at 5:18 PM