Pooparder Anti-Clockwise

Almost all of us have used the out of office feature in our mail account. Nothing more annoying than sending a group email and receiving in rapid fire succession fifty out of office messages. Some people say you should never turn on your out of office message. What if a criminal sends you an email and when they receive your auto-reply they will know you are out of the office? Who knows they might break into your office and steal your stapler and hole punch, not to mention that multi-coloured pencil collection you have been carefully acquiring over the years.

An out of office message can tell you so much about a person. Some have terrible grammar, some have dates that make no sense and then some people just like to boast that they are out of the country. Most messages are so bland. Giving you straight facts and serve no entertainment value, after all isn’t that what email is there for, entertainment value. How about a more original message such as: “I am unable to respond to your message at this time as there is no space for my laptop out here on the ledge. I will return your message after I have been talked down.” Or maybe something less dramatic: “I am currently out of my mind. I will return your message as soon as the drugs take effect.” Perhaps you try this one for size: “I cannot respond to your message at this time as I am busy plotting to take over the world. Training my army of cockroaches is very time consuming. If the matter is urgent or you are responding my request for a nuclear warhead please contact my assistant Pinky.”

Speaking of being out of the office I will be out for two weeks so enjoy the last of my blogs for a while.

You are the camping queen, young and sweet, only bleeding, camping queen, feel the heat from the mezzanine, you can camp, you can hike, having the time of your life, see that girl, watch that scene, dig in the camping queen. Thanks Abba.

Don’t you just love camping? Four guys, one camping queen, the scene is set. It is early morning and a fire is needed. The men gather around to light the fire to keep the queen warm. But it won’t get going. Two of the men argue about where the logs should be, how many logs should be on the fire, where the wind is coming from, what they are going to cook on the fire once it has started, how much to cook and who is going to clean up. The bickering goes on and on. They are like a married couple who are in dire need of couples counseling. The fire just won’t get going. It is as if the logs are still asleep and need their morning fire lighter coffee and a read of the morning newspaper to ignite them into life. The evening fire is not much more successful. We searched high and low for a jerk chicken, seems most chickens are perfectly respectable creatures and finding a jerk amongst them is not as easy as walking into a bar. But now we have our jerk chicken and the coals are so cold the chicken eventually gets up and says he is way too cold out here and is off to find somewhere warmer.

Well we can’t all wait for this chicken to cook, as it is we are basically just keeping it warm on the fire, so we resort to hot dogs. But these are no ordinary hot dogs. No we are supporting Israel with these kosher hotdogs and to continue our support of all that is foreign we put the dogs into ethnic buns. Yes you heard me, ethnic buns. They are not white so they must be ethnic. All this eating badly by the fire doesn’t do much for ones conditioning and soon we will have a dickey-do, “Your belly sticks out further than your dickey-do.”

My banana is still green, but I repotted my tomatoes.

Hidden behind those walls is "The Long Drop"

Deep in the desert of the wild, wild west, hundreds and hundreds of miles from civilization, well at least 5 miles, there is a campsite. Part of being one with nature at a campsite is using the infamous long drop. The bog of the outdoors. The long drop was close, but there was only one. It had no light, but it was warm. It had toilet paper, but you could use it to buff your nails while you squeezed the beef. There would also be no splashing.

The problem with there being only one long drop and in the quiet outdoors is you can hear when someone is waiting outside for you and the pressure mounts. There is nothing worse than a rushed chocolate hostage release. You know you are never going to negotiate the release of all the hostages when there is someone waiting, someone watching the time tick by slowly while you are kicking up a stink. But all this was the least of my worries.

It seems I had developed a blockage. At first I couldn’t figure out why. I hadn’t eaten anything unusual. I hadn’t drunk from the fountain of constipation. Eventually it came to me while sitting on that long drop. My ass hole was scared of heights. It opened its eye and saw how far the drop was and shut its eye in horror. It was literally scared shitless. After an enormous amount of effort I got the eye to open up again, but this just confirmed how far the drop was and to make matters worse, this time it noticed there was not going to be a nice soft water landing. It shut down for the night. The only positive thing to come out of this experience was that if I got really cold at night I now knew how to warm myself up, I just had to push really hard and all the blood would rush to my head.

There was to be no long drop to freedom tonight.

My laptop has never been the same ever since it was “upgraded” to Vista. I always thought an upgrade meant an improvement. I guess Microsoft has found a new meaning for it. I should write to the Oxford English Dictionary and let them know there is a new meaning for an upgrade. Every afternoon my laptop begins its daily go slow. Is it a protest for more money? Does it feel overworked and underpaid? Maybe I should start union negotiations with it. Perhaps I can appease it with a RAM upgrade. This should keep it busy for a while until it begins to suffer from obesity issues. I’ll have to give it insulin shots once a day just to keep it working. I think Vista was designed by Microsoft Italy in collaboration with the Italian Army. The Italian Army is famous for its tanks with one forward gear and 5 reverse gears.

Sometimes I think Vista is like that Great Grandmother that is 95 years old, is sick and needs constant looking after, but just doesn’t seem to die. You wish she would just give up the ghost and die so you can move on. What do a Ford Mustang and Vista have in common? They are bloated, not that bright and slow. I sometimes think my brain is Vista infected as I am very slow to read a book. Then there are times I think Vista is a naughty child. “No I am not going to scroll down and nothing you say is going to make me. Okay fine I’ll scroll down, but just to spite you I am going to scroll very slowly. :p”

Bring on Windows 7!

Is there anybody out there? Is this thing on? Are you sure? If I find out this thing is off and I am putting wear and tear on my keyboard for nothing, not too mention the damage to my nails, and I have just sanded and buffed them, I will be very upset.  And trust me you don’t want to see me upset, I almost look awake and I might stamp my foot, gently though so as not to damage any tendons.

My mother always said “use it or lose it!” Does that apply to unlimited text messages, or sending emails, or was she talking about something else.  Maybe she said “abuse it and lose it!”  Or was that my employer on their email/internet policy.  And then there were the carrots.  “If you eat your carrots you will be able to see in the dark.”  Well clearly she hasn’t seen my girlfriend, trust me I don’t want to be able to see her in the dark.  Think I’ll give the carrots a miss, just in case.

Reason 1 why you don't give chocolates

Happy VD. No I am not wishing you catch an STD. I am referring to Valentine’s Day, although I have no doubt on this special day there is a slight uptick in the spread of STD’s. Yes it really is that day of the year again. They said it wouldn’t work, but the marketing machine was underestimated and it turned an ordinary day into a retailers and restaurateurs dream. Even in these tough economic times do you think you can get away with doing nothing? Not unless you wish to be single again. You can give every tragic economic tale of woe you can think of, but she will reply that you value cash in hand more than her. It is a no win situation, you will just have to find that urge to splurge.

I am sure you are dying to know what Valentine’s Day ideas I have for you. I saw a local Pizza Restaurant is offering a heart shaped pizza special.  All you need to do is order one for delivery, get out your Terminator 2 DVD and invite the misses around at the last minute. Make sure you give her enough time to pick up beers on the way over. What a romantic evening. Do you have a hot date? I like Moroccan dates and I heat them up in the microwave for 30 seconds. Nothing like a hot date.

Valentine’s Day – Bite me (slightly lower and a little to the left)

It’s that time of the year when across the country and large parts of the world cheap labour is being exploited to pull from the depths of the earth evidence that public companies have presented fair and true financial statements. The auditors swarm in and are driven by unrelenting partners shouting “leverage!” Cheap labour coupled with high charge out rates and long, long hours with no overtime pay brings them their leverage. This is the world of Blood Financials. Those financial statements in your briefcase, where they signed off by child labour auditors? Are you in possession of Blood Financials?

These partners are not going to use the money they make to support a civil war, no it is far worse. Their profits are used to make the payments on the Bentley, the house they can’t really afford and private school fees. And after the cheap labour had worked their 80 hours a week and given up their lives in the name of accurate financial statements what reward do they get? The reward for providing confidence in the world’s financial markets? In honour of all your hard work, dedication, loss of your family and friends, and living for the cause the partners would like to present you with this token of their appreciation…a pink slip. You can now go forth feeling happy to have your first job loss on your resume.

Have you ever wondered how people that come together overcome religious and cultural differences? Sometimes the pressure from the parents can put an end to the relationship. When love prevails one of the pair may convert to their partners beliefs  just for appearance sake and preventing putting disgrace on the parents and their family.

I thought I would share with you a conversation that a Jewish girl might have with her Christan boyfriend.

Rachel: “John I really think you should get circumsized.”

John: “But I am 33 years old, do you have any idea how painful that will be?”

Rachel: “My Father knows. He can spot a foreskin from a mile away, all he needs is line of sight to the crotch area of your trousers.”

John: “Damn! If you had warned me I could have walked around like Michael Jackson, hand on my crotch. How about if I wear a Yamaka when we do it? Will that help?”

Rachel: “I guess so, but you are not bringing that thing anywhere near my mouth. You know I don’t eat pork.”

I ventured through the dark corridors of our offices late one evening. All was quiet the chit chatter of my colleagues silent now that they have left for the day. At the end of the corridor I had reached my destination, the break room with its large screen televisions and the promise of some leftover food and light beverages. And there on the counter they were. Big, bold, juicy brownies.  But I say no to the big, bold, juicy, gooey brownies. They call me: “We are big, bold, juicy, gooey, delicious brownies. Please eat us.” I look away and once again I say no. They start to call out again and as I turn to look at them they flutter their eyelids at me the way a 200lb prostitute might.

I want to run for my life, run for my heart, but I fear they may haunt me. I hatch a plan to silence them. Faster than a hawk on ecstasy I am across the break room and I have a brownie by the neck. In a gruesome, but fully justified, act of violence I bite off its head and place the body back amongst its friends. I leave the body as a warning to the others not to tempt me. I’m left with a sticky mess on my hands. A trip to the restroom is required to wash off the evidence.

All was quiet on a Tuesday evening at the Wynn Resort and Casino in Las Vegas.  The casino floor was not buzzing with the noise of ringing slot machines or the chatter of patrons. Perhaps there was a Speech Impaired conference in town. No there was no signs of excessive rapid hand movement, it was just a quiet Tuesday night. Or so it seemed to the untrained eye of a casino novice.

A stop outside Blush Nightclub would soon change my mind on that quiet Tuesday night. The young girls in their “OMG don’t touch me or I might fall over and break my neck” platform shoes were starting to line up to get inside the curtained walls of Blush.  Of course not every self respecting girl would be caught wearing platform shoes, there was also the girl with a polar bear wrapped around each leg. Oh no, I was mistaken, it was just a very fury knee high boot. I would say the girls came in all sorts of shapes and sizes, but too be honest most came in size slim, shape stick like and age….is that a fake ID?

Needless to say there were a few exceptions. One girl, for want of a better word, had her clear Perspex platform shoes on and tiny little dress, which overexposed what appeared to be two large recent additions to her chest area. And I say additions, because when you looked at her face hidden under that short fake blonde hair it was scary. The face was something you would expect to see in the men’s restroom, not the ladies. If this girl didn’t used to be a man then you can pluck my pubes out one by one. And who could forget the sight of the girl in the pink dress? This was not a small girl, but it appeared as if she had bought this dress in the 12-14 year old section of the store. She must have been covered in oil and then lowered into her dress by a crane. She walked through the casino floor with one breast poking out saying good evening to anyone who cared to look at it. The dress was so short, with a split in the front that she could have been a walking advertisement for that famous Mexican restaurant in the Hard Rock Hotel and Casino called Pink Taco.  Where are the fashion police when you need them? No wonder the nightclub is called Blush.