February 16, 2006

an open letter to the building facilities person(s) in charge of ordering paper goods for the bathroom at my job

Dear Building Facilities Person(s) in Charge of Ordering Paper Goods for the Bathroom at My Job:

While I don't expect my tush to be treated to the gentle and forgiving cotton of Quilted Northern here at work, I was just a bit chagrined to discover a new brand of parchment-like T.P. occupying the stalls today.

If I wanted to roll out some phyllo dough or draft a new version of the Declaration of Independence, this would be suitable paper stock. It is less than ideal, however, for wiping one's backside.

Lest you think I'm being a prima-donna, I assure you I have the greater good in mind when lodging this complaint. I dare say that scratchy toilet paper cannot be good for long-term company morale. It's simple math, really: A sore ass = a disgruntled employee.

And think of the potential absenteeism! And the cost of all the hemorrhoid doughnuts that will no doubt appear on numerous employee expense reports!

Please take this under advisement when placing your next order. If not, kindly plant a big wet one on my chapped, irritated ass. No, really, please kiss it as it might help soothe the burn.


Curly McDimple

February 14, 2006

one of those days

If someone would be so kind as to hook me up with this here apparatus, I promise to love you forever... or at least until the coffee runs out.

Tee hee hee. I said "apparatus."

February 06, 2006

cottonmouth au jus

I'm not dead, I swear. I was away for the weekend and didn't have access to a computer for longer than maybe five minutes at time. As you can imagine, those are less than ideal writing conditions for moi. I did, however, manage to write... on a legal pad. I haven't done that in a while. I felt so retro. Once I transcribe it, I'll have Part 10 up.

The weekend was good. But, as usual, my numbers (8 and 5) in the Super Bowl box pool were bad and I won bupkus. Why do I even bother to gamble? Lady Luck thinks I'm gross and stays far, far away. I should stop trying to court her, no?

Oh and in keeping with the tradition started last Super Bowl weekend, The Adorable Five-Year-Old Niece uttered a priceless statement worthy of a blog entry. It was out of the blue, completely lacked context and said with a dead serious face:
"Sometimes my mouth feels like I just ate roast beef."
The thing is, despite my veggie leanings, I understood exactly what she meant. I ask you -- is there a better way to bond with a child than by explaining the finer points of a Tic-Tac? I think not.

February 01, 2006

on waving my private parts at your aunties and the birth of a drama dork

I just saw Monthy Python's Spamalot with my father. It was his first Broadway show ever. I don't know what I enjoyed more -- the musical itself or his reaction to it. (For the record, I ADORED the show. I urge you all to grab your coconuts and go!)

If you don't understand the magic of live theater, go see a Broadway show with a first-timer. Your enjoyment will increase exponentially. I got such a kick out of my Dad. He laughed so hard he cried. I inherited his loud, wheezy laugh so the two of us put on quite the show for our neighbors. It sounded like we were engaged in a bout of dueling harmonicas with our chesty chuckles.

I watched my father excitedly flip through his Playbill during intermission. I noticed that he paid extra attention to the "How Many Have You Seen?" section. Methinks a new theater geek was born tonight! He'll soon be drinking his decaf out of a Phantom mug and adorning the fridge with Miss Saigon magnets. He'll no longer host barbecues but rather Jellicle Balls instead. But through my snobby guidance, he'll eventually learn to scoff at Andrew Lloyd Webber (wanker!) and before long, he'll be tsking over the Tony nominations and second-guessing the selections of the Drama Desk.

I cannot wait. Ooh and now I know what to get him for Father's Day! However, I think it wise to maybe break him in a bit more with the big-budget musicals before dragging him off to see, say, Naked Boys Singing, n'est ce pas?

P.S. Part Ten is coming soon. I promise.