Completely Random Observations

When you work with a bunch of computer programmers and software developers chances are that eventually when you walk down the hall in your office you are going to stop dead in your tracks because you just overheard the sentence “Yeah, but you have to admit that if you look at it a certain way, Lord Vador had a point” like I just did.

When I go to the gym tonight, if Fucking Marlon makes me do what he did on Monday I’ll kill him because I’m just now starting to regain the feeling in my ass.

The above, when taken out of context, has to be the most perverted sounding sentence that I have ever written. Of course, I could put the above sentence into context so that you would know what I’m taking about, but that would take all the fun out of it.

Every time I am watch “The Barefoot Contessa” on The Food Network and see Ina Garten’s husband I have an overwhelming urge to hit that man with a stick while screaming “Dance Hobbit, DANCE”. I am also unable to refer to him as anything other than “The Simpleton”. No…I have no idea why.

I will never understand why, whenever we have a party, Nick and Candace demand that I make these little sausage ball appetizer thingies and then laugh like 9 year olds when Nick asks if everyone at the party has “tasted my wife’s balls”. There is about a hundred percent chance that this is going to happen on Sunday while we’re watching the Superbowl.

I happen to think that The Pixies and Sonic Youth are perfectly appropriate bands to play for your child when you’re trying to get it to go to sleep. If my mom could assault us into sleeping by playing Janis Joplin, then goddamn it my kid will grow up with an unhealthy appreciation of Thurston Moore. – this observation brought on by an odd conversation with Nick, as are most things.

The next person to walk by my office holding a bag from any fast food restaurant that contains a cheeseburger will be hit with a chair and have their cheeseburger stolen because Fucking Marlon won’t let me eat cheeseburgers and I really, really need to because I’m in a bad mood.

I doubt Fucking Marlon will let me have martinis either, but we’re just not going to tell him about that.

After re-reading the whole thing about music choices for the child I don’t have, I realized that if there is any hope for me to have a kid and not have Child Protective Services called on me once week then I should probably stop referring to the child as “it”.

I cannot live without this:





I am still trying to determine if the massive headache I get everyday around 2:30 has anything to do with my complete and total loathing of The Blue Man Group.