Really?! It Means That? Are You Sure?

Today, I learned that if you have a friend, and sometimes you go out and have beers with him, and sometimes he takes you camping with him in his camper trailer, and once he let you borrow his family cabin, and he has season tickets to the local football team and he always lets you have one of the tickets, and sometimes he takes you to lunch and he always pays, and sometimes the two of you tell naughty jokes in the bathroom of a downtown bar, and now matter what, he always makes sure you get home safe, well, today I learned it that even if your friend does all those things for you, you still can't refer to that friend, when you're talking to other people, as your "friend with benefits".

How To Create A Lady Gaga.

1 Part - Marilyn Manson

1 Part - Madonna

1 Part - Elton John

1 Part - Epileptic Stripper

Mix in blender until icky. Bake at ridiculous until overdone.

Makes enough for the mindless masses. Serve to public until they Gag.

An Application For GameStop.

PERSONAL INFORMATION:    Name:_________________________

Sex: _____ Male _____ Female     Age: ______     Weight: _____ lbs.

Race: _____________________     Religion: _____________________

*If you answered female, 18-40 with a weight under 170lbs. Please stop. You are hired. If you Cosplay Lara Croft at ComicCon events, will you marry me? I will give you everything I will ever earn.

**Listing Elvish or Klingon as Race, or Jedi as Religion, was funny... 30 years ago.

If a customer comes into the store and asks some questions that reveal he is not very knowledgeable; what is correct way to respond to said customer?: ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

*If you respond with anything but a patronizing cutting remark dripping with condescension, you don't belong here.

Do you live in your parents or your grandparents:  _____Basement   _____Attic   _____Converted Garage  _____Your childhood room?

*Don't lie. We know you don't live with Milla Jojovich in her penthouse suite.

What is an apt description of your skin shade?: _____Pale  _____White  _____Paper White _____Translucent  _____Transparent  _____Neon White

_____ Fresh Snow on a Bright Sunny Day White  _____ Pasty

*As long as you don't have a tan, we're OK.

What is your experience level with members of the opposite sex? No. I mean a real live person.:_______________________________________________

______________________________________________________________

*There is no right answer. I just like hearing about people who have actually been with a woman.

What is your favorite food?: _________________________________

*Tostinos Microwave Party Pizza is the correct answer. Mountain Dew and Fiery Cheetos is also acceptable.

What kind of music do you listen to?:_________________________________

*Anything other than Scandinavian Death Metal will be considered a FAIL.

The only way to earn a job, is for you to defeat a current employee in a video game duel. What game will you choose?: ______Mortal Kombat.

*Duh. There are no other choices.

Man Correctly Predicts The End. Sort Of.

A man who recently, quite publicly, predicted the end of the world (again) was found dead underneath an RV that was being used as a moving billboard promoting that apocalyptic view. Police Spokesman D. Meyers, said that one of the volunteers who had given up everything and dedicated their life to letting the world know about it's impending doom, became slightly angry after the world failed to end on Saturday. The volunteer then parked the largish Winnebago on top of the erstwhile prophet and declared, "You were right. Your world did end tonight!" Police are unsure what charges to file, "The victims predictions about doomsday could be construed as an elaborate suicide plot." One thing is immediately apparent; this erroneous oracle has given his last misguided prediction.

Don't Get Your Advertising At This Place.

Complaints? OK, let me see. Well, first off, I take ultimate responsibility for this entire debacle. I should have known that leaving my marketing and advertising to a guy with a piercing through his forehead, and a tattoo of Darth Vader dueling a Care Bear on his face, was a mistake. But the price was right and I thought that at least you would be creative, and could tap into that cool downtown vibe. That being said; are you brain damaged?! The marketing ideas you brought to me are possibly the worst ideas that have ever been put to paper. Your company should be called Moronic Heart, not Neuronic Heart, (what the hell does that even mean?!) I just was looking for some ideas to get the word out about my new Tapa's Bar to the local populace and you came up with the following gems.

My kindergartner could have come up with this, but at least not it's not offensive. Sadly the best of the lot.

Are you comparing my business to a prostitute from Good Morning Vietnam?
I know this might be a difficult distinction for you but restaurant not whorehouse.

Ah, keeping with the card suit theme, clever. EXCEPT it's not! Not only do we not screw our customers,
we also don't hit them. Preemptively; spading my customers isn't funny either.

No, no, no. We never kill people. Never. Ever. Ever.

I'm no marketing genius, but I am pretty sure that listing rat poison in the tagline of your restaurant is a bad strategy. Even if we don't have rat poison in our food. And never have.

I have a family owned business. My wife and daughters work here. We are not Hooter's,
I am not going to sexually exploit our waitresses, (or our waiters, for that matter.)

In closing, give me my money back, you freaking MORON. On a related note; If I ever see you in my restaurant, I will break one of my rules and barely kill you... possibly, with a club. And I will heart it. 

A Black Eye For Mother's Day.

I never know what to give my mother or my wife for Mother's Day. My mom thinks I can do no wrong, so whatever stupid thing I get her, she thinks it's special. But my wife? That's a different story. For instance, my wife will never let me forget the year I built her a dog run as a gift. Now in my defense, that's what I thought she asked for (possibly I shouldn't ask her what she wants after I've been using acetone to clean the lovely mural the children painted on the mini-van off of the mini-van in the garage which has no ventilation).

     This year I am going BIG! I'm going to give her a second wedding. But, I don't want to give her some cheezy re-commitment ceremony. She's gonna get the whole storybook princess wedding, the Justice of the Peace, tons of family (mine mostly), cocktail weenies, cases of PBR, line dancing; she'll have it all. But, that means we have to get divorced first. I'll serve her the divorce papers early in the morning, we'll have a chuckle or two, and then I'll ask her to remarry me. She always says I don't surprise her, and this should qualify. With any luck, she'll sweat a little first; she deserves it after always complaining about my gifts.

     Well, things didn't quite go as planned. It started off good, I had a courier bring the papers shortly after I left for work. Then things went off the rails. My wife called, in tears, right after the courier left. I tried to settle her down, but I couldn't get a word in edgewise. She was sobbing and laughing(?), I think I heard "thank you" and "best gift ever" and "just what I always wanted". After she hung up I noticed her phone number came up under her maiden name. I tried to call her back but I just kept getting voice mail; which now says something about going home after many long painful years. I tried to get a hold of her on the computer, but she isn't responding. I just noticed her Facebook status page says that she is "single" now. I better get home and straighten this all out.

     By the time I get home my stuff is laying out on the front yard. Right next to the "For Sale" sign. The locks seem to have been  changed as well. The neighbors tell me that a semi-truck came and loaded up everything in the house, and that my wife left shortly after the movers did, after telling all the neighbors good-bye. I don't think she is taking this very well, she is obviously having a panic attack, acting irrationally. If I can just find her, I can fix everything; tell her it was all just a misunderstanding, a little joke. And once this is over we will sit and laugh and laugh. If I can just find her.

When Is A Party Not A Party?

Yesterday morning my wife told me we had "Spring Fest" that night. Woohoo! Party! It's been years since we went to an honest to goodness hootenanny, a good old fashioned pub crawl. I tried to remember when the last time I saw my beer helmet or my toga. The kids had used the beer helmet to catch and store tadpoles, and I'm sure my toga just cleaned the toilet last week. It's time to innovate. I will use duct tape and attach a couple of beers to my hard hat and press the kids unused Spongebob sheets into service as my new party toga.

   I show up at "Spring Fest" at the appointed time and it appears that I am the only one drinking so far. That's not unusual, I often start drinking before any one else; what is unusual, is the number of children present. It's really tacky to allow children to an event where people are partying. I say as much to a severe looking woman standing next to me, as I hand her a beer.

   She tells me, "This isn't a pubcrawl. This is the school fundraiser. YOU are the only one drinking. And I suppose this explains a thing or two. I am your oldest child's teacher, Mrs. Lyodda"

   "Hmmh. My bad. And just because I made a mistake and showed up to a school event in a toga, you can't make a snap judgement about what kind of father I am."

   "It's true, every one makes mistakes. But, this is the third year in a row."

   "So does that mean you aren't going to have that beer with me, 'cause I want it back if you don't want it."

   "I'm going to call the cops."

   "Don't do that. I'm sure they have more important things to do than to drink with me."

   "Tell you what, get rid of the beers and the toga, and we won't have to kick you out."

   So, I got rid of my beers and my toga, just like she asked. And was she happy?! No. She started screaming about how I couldn't walk around drunk in my underwear. Man you just can't please some people.