It’s a political chestnut as old as democracy itself and it goes something like this:

“In any debate, the moderator is the Alpha and the Omega, the First and the Last, the Beginning and the End and the decider of all elections.  Always.”

Looking back on history it is is inarguable that moderators have played the biggest role (even biggester than the candidates themselves) in every presidential election since moderator Aaron Burr shot a particularly taciturn Alexander Hamilton for repeatedly going over his time allotment in the 1804 presidential debates.  Or in 1948, when Strom Thurmond’s flipped the election to Truman after challenger Thomas Dewey made unflattering comments regarding Strom’s recent sarcophagus purchase.

Thus it should come as no surprise when Romney loses by 20 or 30 points come November 7th.  You all saw that shit go down yesterday.  Candy Crowley basically crowned Obama’s ass.  In light of the moderator’s near electoral omnipotence, Romney should be happy to have escaped with his life.

But luckily there are still brave patriots willing to stand up to jack-booted media thugs like Candy Crowley and fight the good fight.  The fight to save us from, well, I’m not even brave enough to say it on my own blog (she decides elections, you think she can’t decide my blog off the teh internetz?) so I’ll leave it to a man whose wisdom, perspicaciousness, and is the stuff of legend:

  But she committed an act of journalistic terror or malpractice last night.  If there were any journalistic standards, what she did last night would have been the equivalent of blowing up her career like a suicide bomber.

[Transcript of The Rush Limbaugh Show - 10.17.12]

Journa-listic TERROR-ism people.  You heard it here second.  Or third if you read The Blaze.  Or fourth if your homepage is The Drudge Report (like it should be).  Either way it’s undeniable that Candy Crowley basically terrorized American viewers with, well, with this:

Mr. Romney: “You said in the Rose Garden the day after the attack, it was an act of terror? It was not a spontaneous demonstration, is that what you’re saying.”

Mr. Obama made no defense. “Please proceed, governor.”

“I want to make sure,” Mr. Romney said. “Get the transcript,” the president said. Then Ms. Crowley jumped in to do her own fact-check, on the spot. “It — it — it — he did in fact, sir. … He did call it an act of terror.”

The truth is, he didn’t. The day after the attack, he said only this: “No acts of terror will ever shake the resolve of this great nation, alter that character or eclipse the light of the values that we stand for.” It took another two weeks before the White House would label the attack an act of terror.

You see?  You see what she did?  Don’t you see it?  You’d have to be blind not to see it! She broke the rules!  Typical bleeding heart liberal always trying to help the Negroes at the expense of job creators.  It’s tough enough that Romney has to run against All The Media but now he has to go up against the single most powerful force in American politics: the moderator.  Candy Crowley probably cost Romney Florida and Ohio right there.

Romney might as well concede the race at this point.  He can’t win when the moderator demographic is so stacked against him.  I’d say we should regulate the debates to be fair but that’s a classic libtard move: “I just want the gubmint to regulate debates.” [To be sung to the melody of "I'm A Giant Pussy Libtard" or in a pinch "The Pina Colada Song"]

Whatever dummacrat (Hi-Yo!), like election crap is the gubmint’s job.  Give it to the private sector.  We’ll get the most efficient, greatest, smartest, cheapest but also highest quality moderators our awesomesauce nation has ever known.  Not these meddling no-good punks like Candy Crowley.  And if you don’t believe that, just Google Candy Crowley and you’ll see the magic of free enterprise at work on the internet:

In your face liberits!

[Side Note:  While surfing around conservative websites I stopped on Breitbart.com, which on the spectrum of conservative news sites tends to fall in the same category as The Blaze (Glenn Beck’s outfit) but with a dash more snark mixed into their fear-mongering.  As everyone knows, I like “reality betting” so I put the over/under at 8 comments before somebody made a comment about Candy being fat.

And after a few comments mocking Crawley’s perceived adoration of Barry O, SineWaveII came in with this gem:

reply to imconservative below:  Obama: “Sorry honey, I don’t swing that way”
Michelle: “Thanks for the assist Candy, now go eat a salad you obese bitch. You’re disgusting!”

Sorry folks, 8′s a push.

/

Something Authorly

Something Authorly has been off teh internets for the last week and a half or so.  The transition to being employed from being super unemployed has been a little more jarring than Ol’ Himbo has expected.

It’s not that the job is hard or sucks or anything (I have absolutely nothing to complain about.  And I like to complain.  A lot.  So that should tell you something.  But unless this company is torturing babies in the basement or something I give them 5 stars.  And even if they are torturing babies in the basement, you know what they say “Attitude is everything.”  Be proactive and punch the baby before he starts crying!  That’s called “taking ownership”.)

As you know, finding a job was a bit of a struggle.  And nobody told me about the job helmet.

I’m not here to tell you how to get a job though.  As I’ve shown, I’m no expert.  Plus there are a million sites that can help you land a job.

I’m here to help you with the transitioning from a lazy, mooching, entitled leech who won’t take responsibility for your life into an employed…lazy, mooching, entitled leech who won’t take responsibility for your life.  Strap on your employed hat!

YOU’VE GOT THE JOB, NOW FIGHT TO KEEP IT.  Or not really fight so much as stay off of everyone’s radar.  Your strategery for making it through the 90-day probation period (after which you can never be fired for anything ever) is, well, Brad Pitt pretty much lays it out in Ocean’s Eleven:

And what Rusty was about to tell MATT DAMON is the number one-can’t fail-set in stone-guaranteed-lock of the week of the year of the decade for keeping your new job:

DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES BE WEIRD.  EVER.

This is really the only rule you need to make it through the 90 days.  Now maybe you’re thinking to yourself, “Jobokal, what if I walked in and started farting on people’s hands and…oh wait.  You’re totes right!”  Why yes, hypothetical reader that always proves my point, I am right.  Now stop interrupting.

I feel like I shouldn’t have to go over this but I have more than fifty stories (it’s like over even 75 or 78) of people doing incredibly weird things at work that would get you thrown out of that butt-chugging frat in Tennessee much less an actual jobby-job that pays paper money.

Let’s look at a couple of situations that occur during everyone’s 90-day probation period and how to successfully navigate them without coming across as weird.  (These tips assume that the reader has 1.) A job they are interested in keeping, 2.) Is not at a sex shop/porn shoot/strip club/ since I will emphatically urge you not to orgasm in your new place of work but that might not be a deal breaker in these vocations and 3.) Isn’t a job the fringe elements of society tend to congregate, e.g. the carnival, meter maids, any type of “guru”, elected official, etc.)

The Situation: Everybody Is Talking About Their Favorite Television Show

It’s one of the first things you’ll learn about your co-workers.  Everybody has their shows.  There’s a show you hate?  Somebody at your new job live blogs it and runs a fan site for it.  Do not have any strong opinions about any shows during your probationary period (exceptions: The Wire; Seinfeld; The Sopranos–you’ll get a free pass on any of these even from people that don’t like them).

Also be wary of being into anything too much.  Especially if it’s generally understood to be kid or teen oriented.  Don’t wear a fucking SpongeBob tie or wear a Hello Kitty choker.  I know “you are doing you” but you will not be retained if you show off your full back tat of TARDIS on day two.

The Situation: A New Co-Worker Appears To Fish For A Compliment

Best response?  Anything non-committal and vaguely positive (“I think it/you/her/him/they look/seem/are great/nice/friendly”)  Weird responses?  Too much info (“Actually my Mom wears Spanx too but that’s only because her vaginal rejuvenation didn’t stick and now she has bladder control problems.”)

Oh and dudes, the 90-day probation period is not the time to make moves on chicks. You will come across as creepy at best.

You can disregard this rule if you meet the following two qualifications:

1.) You are attractive.

2.) You are not unattractive.

Actually this rule applies for women as well.  (And you have a lot of leeway on number 2.  Like turning an aircraft carrier type of leeway.)

The Situation: You Disagree With A Co-Worker

It’s going to happen.  Probably sooner than later.  Especially at the carnival.  Turns out, clowns?  Remarkably stubborn.  One of the quickest ways to be categorized as “weird” is to argue with your new co-workers, especially about something job-related.  This is a dead giveaway that you lack some basic social skills and situational awareness.

This is America.  You’re going to work with idiots  That should be right in there with death and taxes on the guarantee list.  You are new.  You are fighting to keep this job.  Remember that.

The Situation: Your Co-Worker Is Weird

This is tough.  But this is also part of why you need to put your time in.  Eventually you’ll be able to discuss the monthly Furry Conventions you attend without shame.*  Refrain from acknowledging your new co-worker’s weirdness while also putting out feelers to see if anyone else has noticed.  Eventually you’ll find a clique to make fun of that person with.

In the mean time relax.  There will be plenty of time to shit talk all of your co-workers once your soul has been crushed by your glorious new job.  Enjoy these first few months where you can laugh with your friends about how Janine always smells like Hamburger Helper and has an obsession with decorative spoons.

And finally take an assessment after a few weeks.  Look around the office.  If you can’t point out the weird employee, well, that’s probably a sign you probably shouldn’t have told anyone you’ve been saving your clipped toenails in a shoebox for the last 13 years.

*Just kidding.  You can never tell anyone that you are unable to ejack unless your partner is dressed as Tinky Winky.  It is your cross to bear.  We all have one.  Me? I’m a perfectionist and sometimes I work too hard.

Something Authorly

If your duckets were part of the $300+ million dollars that inexplicably swung from the Green Bay Packer side to the Seattle Seahawk side yesterday night; you have just one more reason to despise old rich (pasty white) guys.  You want to know why you lost money last night?

The simple answer is because the owners are arguing with refs over roughly $3 million dollars.

The truthier answer is that the owners are setting the table for future union negotiations by driving a hard bargain.

The truthiest answer is that the owners are rich fucking assholes that look at the nine-something billion dollar NFL pie and begrudge every dollar that doesn’t end up in their pocket.

So if you look at this lockout as strictly a money thing (as owners do) the disputed money is 1% of estimated money swing on that discarded afterbirth of a touchdown call yesterday.

It’s a little over one-seventh of Roger Goodell’s reported salary this year.

The following list of players make $3 million dollars per year.  If they are currently starting on your squad you’ve probably stopped coaching already.

-Seneca Wallace

-Greg Olsen

-Greg Jones (I’ll give any reader a $1 who can name the position he plays without using Teh Internetz.  I’ll give $2 if you can name the team.)

-Dustin Keller

-Mike Williams (Not that Mike Williams.  This one.)

-Ahmad Bradshaw

-David Akers (a goddamned kicker!)

-Chad Ochocinco (before he was cut)

[Sports City]

Or here’s another way to look at it.  $3 million represents .03% of the NFL’s yearly revenue.  It’s a pittance.  I read somewhere that the NFL actually made $4 million last year of player fines alone.  But of course I can’t find the website now and that just makes it look like I made it up but what are you gonna do?  Google it and prove me wrong?

You are?

I know I read it somewhere.  Probably behind the NYT pay wall so you won’t be able to read it but trust me it says exactly what I need it to say to support my point.

Ultimately, the NFL doesn’t have to negotiate.  The NFL is a distant first when it comes to American sports.  Though we scream mightily (and post Roger Goodell’s office number on Twitter) we’ll still watch, replacement refs or no.  Does it hurt the brand?  Maybe.  Temporarily at best.

I’ll believe that the ref lockout is hurting the NFL when I see friend’s fantasy teams dumped from frustration with the poorly officiated games.  As opposed to dumping your team because a certain former stud running back who was supposed to have a renaissance season is sucking goat dong and balls*.  Or a downturn in ticket sales.  Or networks asking for money back because games are eating into other time slots (the games are roughly 15 minutes longer this year than last as refs–like stoners playing Trivial Pursuit–take a really long time to get the wrong answer).

None of that has happened.  None of it will happen.  The owners know this. The refs can do nothing for them.  As has been said many times, we don’t watch the games for the referees.  Until the owners feel it in the pocketbook they hold all the cards.  They don’t have to give an inch because there’s no repercussion.  Why give up the equivalent of cushion change when you don’t have to?

It reminds me of a quote from the novelist Paul Eldridge (whom I had to Google):

A man’s character is most evident by how he treats those who are not in a position either to retaliate or reciprocate.

In this case, we can safely say the owners are a bunch of cunts, character-wise.

*You break my heart Chris Johnson.  You really do.

/

Something Authorly

Oh c’mon, you’re thinking about sex anyway.  Half of you unrepentant self abusers probably just watched or are prepping to watch some porn.  Consider this your masturbatory appetizer.

Maybe so Spiderman.  But you know what else happens to people with interesting lives?  They get arrested.  And as we all know, nobody ever got arrested for masturbating.

Actually I can’t back that up.  Hundreds of thousands of people have been arrested for masturbating and other sordid sexxay crimes.  Let’s learn about them!

All of these hawt news stories happened in the last week (or were reported on this week),

Dateline –Sexattle, WA:

Sure Tracy MacDonald is a five-time loser in the flasher game but he was absolutely NOT jerking off at a woman in a park last August 8th.  Just because a man takes of his shirt and pulls his pants down to ankles and furiously rubs his dingus at a passerby does NOT mean he was masturbating.  He was just getting some sun.  Sexattle detective Donna Strangeland begs to differ and testified there was like, totes no sun where he was having a one person boner party.

Apparently not one to add insult to jerking off charges, Sergeant Bonerkiller did not point out that there is no worse town than Seattle to use sunbathing as an excuse for anything.

Dateline — Skindianopolis, IN:

Quick, what do you do if some asshole yells at you while you are minding your own business, masturbating at an apartment building?  You are correct if you answered: Chase him down and whip him with your belt before busting out two of his windows (of a rental car as inexplicably mentioned at the end of this story) with your bare hairy palmed hands.

MASTURBATOR MAD!  MASTURBATOR CRUSH WINDOW!  MASTURBATOR JUST WANT TO FINISH!  WHY YOU TORMENT MASTURBATOR?  MASTURBATOR DOESN”T ASK FOR MUCH.

Dateline — Nookie York, NY:

This never occurred to me which I guess is why I’m not a sexual predator but I guess it’s fully possible to rub to “completion” against (I want to say people here but we all know it’s only fucking dudes that do this shit) fellow riders on packed subway trains.  Unlike our last two stories where people masterbatted at women, these dudes masterbatted on women.

And one of them was busted after DNA linked him, huup, linked him to, oh god, DNA, [explosive vomiting], blarrrraaaaaarrghhhhh!  Haarrraghaaasdddd!

Can we just issue all women a boa constrictor when they step on the subway?  I think that would cut down on the “grinder” problem which is the terminology the courts use for masterbatting on people in crowded subways.

Dateline — Scorlando, FL:

You really thought we’d make it through this without a story from goddamned Florida?

Edwin Del Rosario whose name is much more distinguished than his public behavior was caught in the children’s section of the local library “making inappropriate motions in his lap while facing the children“.  The police can’t accidentally shoot Edwin?  The guy’s 60 years old.  He not going to contribute to society.  His idea of a solid Wednesday afternoon is to masterbat at kids?

At a library no less?  Libraries are already having funding issues and you gotta show up and whip your dick out?  I hope they put him in a cell with just a ceiling fan, a chair and a bunch of belts and shoelaces and long sheets that are easily fashioned into ropes.

Dateline — Yolohio

And then we have the sweetest neighborhood crime report to ever make the paper:

This story has everything: sex and death and drugs and movies and crime and irony and punishment and exploitation.  All in three sentences.  Whoever wrote up this report deserves ALL the Pulitzers.

Have a solitary (but not, you know, solitary) weekend.

/

____________________________________________________________

OPERATION: YOKO NO NO UPDATE- WEEK 21

Yoko is following: 901942 (+9493)

@SomethingAuthor is following: 1601 (-1)

Recap:  You want a recap?  Why don’t you go out there and find another example of how suck Yoko Ono is and how cosmically unfair it is that she’ll follow a million people before I follow even two thousand and one?  A million people.  A million fucking tweeps.  Fucking Yoko goddamned Ono.  Go figure.

Also little progress this week.  And like 14 followers just up and deserted me.  Possibly because they love Willard.

Something Authorly’s Follower Of The Week: KidFreeLiving @KidFreeLiving

The term Kid-Free is like a dog whistle for me or something.  Not that I don’t want to have kids someday but I just associate the term kid-free with everything that I like: booze, swearing, sex, really off-sides comments.  Apparently KidFreeLiving and I think alike.  Go read her blog here or just follow her on Twitter.  Her blog slogan even involves being a more interesting person.  Though we differ a bit there.  Whereas she wants you to be more interesting in case she’s stuck on an elevator with you, I want you to be a person of interest.  Preferably in a bizarre crime involving alcohol and chickens.  You probably thought I was going to say masturbation didn’t you.  Well good.  Cuz I was.

Something Authorly

I know that some people don’t have Subway restaurants (though they have 2(!) in Afghanistan and 6 in Zambia and 16 in Qatar.  Qatar is lousy with Subways.).  but they must have lines, yes?  Everybody has lines.  And the notion of some sort of protocol in a fast food place, right?

I lived in Mexico for 6 months and I didn’t walk into taco shops, stride past the line and ask if to be helped.

Mexi-Himbo: Do you have pie here?

Taco Shop Worker:  <dead eyed silence>

Mexi-Himbo: No pies?

Taco Shop Worker: <dead eyed silence>

Mexi-Himbo:  At all?  Well then what are all these people waiting for?

Taco Shop Worker: <shrugs>

Mexi-Himbo: Do you take euros?

No you walk into any fast food restaurant ever and you should be able to pick up the local custom after about two minutes of observation.  Wait in line.  When it’s your turn, order.  Do your best not to be confusing.  Wait for your order to be called.  Pick it up.

Sometimes there’s a curveball and they give you a number.  That means sit at your table and wait.  They will eventually send a person out with your order.

You cry “But, but, Himbo how will they ever find us?”

And I say to you:  Be vigilant.  The food runner will have a number with the order.  And that number will match the one you were issued.  It’s an intricate service ballet if I ever fucking saw one.

Yet not at goddamned Subway. I can’t remember a time when someone wasn’t utterly confused or oblivious to the Subway ordering MO.

If only they dealt with the trouble-makers this way.

Of course people would have to start in the correct area to begin with which is never the slam dunk you think it would be.  I watched a little old woman walk directly up to the register and try to order as the artist rung out another person.  Failing there she followed another artist who was in the middle of assembling a B.M.T.  Eventually she figured out where the line was an inserted herself midway into it right in front of me.

Maybe it’s seeing your food made that throws people off.  Which is counter-intuitive.  Subway, like no other fast food place, is setup to make it easy for people who don’t speak the language or can’t speak period to order.

You could walk up and just point and grunt and still come away with a personalized meatball sammy.  No cheese?  Grunt and slide finger across your neck like you’re going to slit the sandwich artist’s throat.  Extra sauce?  Make a scooping motion and grunt repeatedly.

But maybe the personalization is the problem.  I watched a guy today ask for 5 more black olives.  She dumped the corporate dictated per person serving of olives on to his sandwich and, I non-shit you, he said “Gimme like 5 more olives.”

Yeah, you don’t want to skimp on black olives.  You’ll end up snacking all afternoon.

Five olives?  You’ll get five olives when you finish your fifth martini you son of a bitch!  Now somebody help Sammy out of this milk crate.

Five olive man was followed in line by a guy who had apparently spent the afternoon watching the Food Network and fancied himself as something of a cheesemonger.

“You guys have Stilton?”

(I can’t tell you much I wish I had the ability to shit myself at the drop of a hat.  I would have stood next to this guy and shat fiercely.  And then stared at him.  Alas I just sighed.  Like a bitch.)

“No?  How about Gouda?  Like a smoky Gouda?  That’d be good.”

What the fuck are you talking about?

“Oh.  I just figured since you guys have a lot of cheeses out that you might have Gouda.  It’s pretty popular you know.”

I just, I don’t know.  Is there some confusion about what is served at fast food places?  Are we so dumb that we don’t realize that a fast food place is not a restaurant?  The personalizing begins and ends with no onions or no mustard or double meat.  That’s it.  It’s Subway.  Everything they have is literally right in front of you.

You think the sandwich artist is going to run back to garde manger and see what the cheese of the day is?

“You guys should really think about adding it.”

Oh god.  Yes, the schmuck making $9.25 an hour will definitely fly that one up the chain of command.  The franchise manager will pass it along to the district manager.  Finally it will make its way to corporate where an expanded cheese initiative will be proposed.

“I think we should consider expanding our hard dairy offerings.   Customer feedback in Unit #13,498 indicates that Gouda is hot right now.”

The question is whether you are more qualified than two sausage biscuits.

Please everyone, I beg of you: lower your standards at fast food joints.  Place your order.  Don’t ask questions.  Take what you get.  Move along.

And if you are confused about how the ordering system works, just go get some gas station food.  They’ll let you do pretty much anything at a gas station.

/

Something Authorly

Listening to leaked videotape of Willard letting his Republican freak flag fly at a private fundraiser this last May I could think of only one thing: former Vikings and Cardinals coach Dennis Green.

Much hay is being made of this hour-long Freudian penis but this is no extended slip of tongue nor is it the earnest pandering that comprises much of Romboid’s campaign.

This is R-Money Stripped.  None of this is a surprise.  The surprise is how honest he’s been about who he is and how much we’ve ignored it.

The general consensus is that we don’t know what Willard stands for.  But that’s not true.  Look at how he sells himself.  His entire candidacy is built around being a successful businessman (usually bolstered by some version of this wildly delusional addendum: “I’ve inherited nothing.  Everything Ann and I have, we earned the old-fashioned way.“)

No doubt this version of Mittens (who channels Ayn Rand with such gusto that I expected him to light a smoke at then end of the speech and call for Alan Greenspan’s testicles) looks extremely familiar to underlings at Bain Capital.  He is who we thought he is: an entitled blowhard businessman with a barely concealed disdain for the hoi polloi.

None of this is a surprise.  The surprise is how honest he’s been about who he is and how much we’ve ignored it.

Think about the idea of somebody campaigning on being a successful businessman/businesswoman.  What that conjures in your mind.  Think about the “successful businessmen/women” you’ve met in your life.  Think about the upper management of the companies you’ve worked in.  Did you ever think to yourself:  “Man I wish Gordon would get into politics.  He sure sold a lot of widgets.  Or managed a lot of managers.  Or pushed the stock price up.  Or gave a lot of speeches.  That’s gotta translate to something.”

No you didn’t.  Sure, the guy might be cool.  Maybe he institutes casual Fridays (“That’s an epic sweater Kev. Really smart.”) or he seems really sincere at the Christmas party while he quizzes you on what it is exactly that you do at his company.

But watch this video.  This is essentially every corporate muckety-muck in America talking to his boardroom.  Just listen to him.  He sounds like nothing so much as an upper management dick bemoaning the trials and tribulations of employing front line workers.

“Look we aren’t going to get any commitment from our entry-level and support staff on the importance of shifting health-care costs so that the company makes forecast.  Luckily those meager skill sets are laughably replaceable with little detriment to the company.  So fuck’em.  Amirite?”

And all this would be fine if government were a business.

But this dipshit idea that a businessperson is best suited to run government is like saying an army general is best suited to be head coach of the Dallas Cowboys.

There is some overlap in skill set but a fundamental dissonance in aim.  You need only to watch the video and try not to cringe to feel it.

/

Something Authorly

I periodically scan through my spam email looking for Nigerian scams to troll.  Occasionally…very occasionally a sex spam email catches my attention.  It will allegedly be from somebody who has the name of a friend of mine.  I look at it and go, “Oh Deandra. Why you are emailing me out of the blue?”

I open up the email and read:

watch daddy destroy his daughter’s dirrty little fuck-hole live.

And then I go “Well Deandra, you need to spell check your marketing material if you want consumers to take your incest porn seriously.

And that’s usually about how long the emails are.  Until I came across this email from Adriana with the subject: “were you in town last night hah”

Intrigued by the inexplicable addition of “hah” to the subject line I opened the spam.

It was 954 words long.  (I know because I cut and pasted it into Word and started proof-reading it)

Click to embiggen

Since it’s so long I figure I owe Adriana some sort of response after all the blood, sweat and tearz she put into it ha-ha!

haha.. anyways guess what... I got 2 things to
tell u.. both good news.. 1) im single now.. yup me and my bf broke up
about 3 months ago... and 2) guess where im moving? RIGHT EFFING NEAR
U.. lol...

I already said ha.  She goes on to use some variation of “laughing” 10 times.  But enough about that: Dude she’s moving right EFFING NEAR U, er me.  Er lol!  And bro she broke up with her boyfriend!  This is like a guaranteed drunken finger-blast at minimum.  I just need to get the digits and it’s on.

ur actually the only person im gonna know there.. well 3
cousins too but i cant chill with them lol..

Definitely don’t want to get speed fingered by your cousins lol.

im hoping this email addy is still
the one you use and u can chat with me ebfore i get there.. maybe even
help me move my shit in...are u still on facebook?

Slow down lady.  I’ve read The Game.  Helping you move?  And we’ve never banged?  Total beta-male move.  It’s not possible to neg your way out of that demonstration of lower value.

i cudnt find ui was
soo confused...

………..?

ok so more info about me.. well im
23.. virgo.. love the outdoors and love to socialize, go out for
drinks, restaurants, movies etc.. travel..

And a little bit about me…33.  I’m a Sagittarius.  Love fun stuff.  Hate boredom and mean people.  Like it when girls seduct me.  Don’t like it when they don’t seduct.  I’m not really like anyone else but I love drinks, restaurants, movies, ellipses, etc…travel…    …   …  What else do you like Adriana?

uhhh oh im a super horny gurl too but
every gurl is they just wont admit it. so ilove watching p0rn and all
that

Kismet!  You almost even spelled pr0n right!

OH YA also.. i need to find a job when i get there..
do u have any hookups or know anybody hiring?

Are you mocking me?  Do you know how hard it was to find a fucking job you bitch?

I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean that.  Go on.

id LOVE to work in a bar
or osmehting like that

You don’t want to work in yanhting like that.

i dont think i ever actually told u what i
did? hmm shud i......???? ok WELLLL... and dont get all weirded out
on me..

I don’t care what you do.  I know all I need to know.  Your job is so heinous that you are looking to get into a cock-tailing job.  I’m picturing a saltpeter mine or a molasses factory.  Also I’m not helping you move without a notarized written agreement that I will get at least an over-the-pants hand job PRIOR to moving any furniture.

And you can’t spell ui but you pulled off weirded?  I had to Google that just to make sure you actually spelled it correctly.

i work on a webcam chat community site

That sounds cool.  What are you doing like live tech support or moderating chat rooms or osemhting?

and i get paid to chat
with people...

Well, obvs.

and get naked HHAHA...

Oh.

Probably should have seen that coming.

BOMB right :)? I KNOW..

Ehhh, yup. Totes bomb.com.  Exactly what I was thinking.

like i
figure iim horny anyways why not get paid to chat with people and play
with myself heheh...anyways i hope u dont look down on that and NO
THATS NOT WHY IM CONTACTING U RELAX URSELF lol

I know in the twisted logic of this email that last line is supposed to be reassuring but it comes across as a bit of a neg, Adriana.

i actually need help
once i move and i remembered u live there so im reaching out....like i
said before this computer is a complete piece of CRAP and freezes NON
STOP

Are you typing to your computer?

ive tried ot send this email to u maybe 3 times already and im
hopign this time i can hit SEND before i run into trouble lol..
ANYWAYS.. heres the deal....every month natalie (my boss) gives each
of us 3 VIP codes to give out to whoever we want.. so with this code u
can lgoin to watch me at work for free and dont have to pay like
everyone else...

And literally the rub.

the only way i can give u one of the codes (so we can
chat)

Hold on.  Back up the bus.  I can’t snap one off to you naked?  Now we have to chat?  This Tolsotyan saga of an email isn’t enough?  And if you mention your broken computer one more time…

i figured u cud
always email me back instead but my email account doesnt even let me
login half the time

Of course it doesn’t.  I sometimes go days without email.  That Gmail login is a fucking Rubik’s cube.

Look, is there anyway we could speed this up?

im online most of the day now to try and save money for my move..
also since im in such a huge debt already form my student loan :( I
really thingk we need to chat before i get there and make sure u evern
remember me hahha.. anyways ive rambled on and on now and ur probably
soooo annnoyed with me so ill stop now..

Apparently Adriana misses the irony of telling me she spends most of the day online.  Live streaming video with voice chat?  Piece of cake.  Email?  Only slightly less difficult than fusion power.

Please Adriana, let’s just end this charade.  Please I bge fo ui.

rmemeber its 100% free with this code im
gonna give u.. just DONT GIVE IT OUT OR ILL KICK U IN THE BALLS
INSTEAD OF LICK U IN THE BALLS WHEN IS EE U hahahahha

Nice one-liner whore.

Now I’d like to say that I didn’t click on the link at the end of this email.  Just like I’d like to say that I didn’t read all 954 words of this horribly spelled email. (I edited out roughly 60% of it for you.  You can read the entire thing here)  I’d like to say that “Adriana” wasn’t hot.  I’d like to say I’ve actually read an entire novel by Tolstoy.

Alas these are all lies.

I can tell you one thing, though:

I totally went to some other site and saw free boobies.  In ya face Adriana!

Have a mispeled wekende.

/

_______________________________________________________________________

OPERATION: YOKO NO NO UPDATE- WEEK 20

Yoko is following: 892,508 (+4401)

@SomethingAuthor is following: 1602 (+1)

Recap:  Figures that Yoko slows down the during the week I took off.  She only averaged following about 2200 people each of the last two weeks.  Of course I averaged half a person a week.  And who was that one person you ask?  It was none other than…

Something Authorly’s Follower Of The Week: @DrVeronicaEyeMD

Dr. Veronica is the healthiest person who has ever followed my Twitter account.  She’s written books and run marathons and shit.  She’s even been photographed with a man stupid enough to be Donald Trump’s right hand man.  She’s also probably never read this blog in her life and it probably barely registers that she’s even following me back.  I can’t wait til one day, between glaucoma treatments she has a couple of spare minutes to kill and pops over to SA and gets and eyeful of jizz/butthole jokes.  What’s the over/under on the amount of time it takes to defollow me?  I’m setting the line at 1 second.  That being said, go follow her and let her know that by following me she is actively supporting sepsis jokes.

Something Authorly

I bring you the story of Spartacus Outlaw.  Man of Milwaukee.  Immortal among heavyset Midwesterners.  A hero ultimately ruined by the sheer weighty mass of his Christian name.  And now a two-time convicted felon who’s looking at 10 to 15.

Thomas Kinkade’s “The Birth Of Spartacus Outlaw”.

Actually our story starts where all stories of the immortals start:  Some fucking skank who to get her skeez on in Cancun and ain’t going to waste her chance at 50 peso skinny margaritas cuz that shit translates to like a dollar a drink, wooo-hooooo!

Fuck jury duty!

At least that’s what I’m almost positive 20-year-old Ivana Samardzic thought to herself when she went on a long-planned family vacation rather than show up for the last day of her jury duty.  Ivana, realizing that women in Cancun hit their expiration date at 21 and a quarter,went AWOL from the jury trial of SPARTACUS OUTLAW THE DESTROYER AND VANQUISHER OF SUNS AND ALSO CONVICTED FELON and ho’d it up in Cancun for 9 days.

Samardzic, a probable Commie:

“I don’t know if this was worth it, but I did have a good time in Cancun,”

Samardzic had always wanted to see what it was like to vacation in a humid version of Palm Springs.  She particularly enjoyed the fact that Cancunese had their own money which could be exchanged for goods and services.  She’s pretty sure it was only like 18 cents or whatever they call it for her 12-year old sister Hannah to get her hair braided.

But I digress.  Spartacus Outlaw, bound in chains of a dragon tail’s thickness, was brought to his knees before Circuit Judge J.D. Watts, a righteous and upright judicial scholar of impeccable perspicacity and a 77′ graduate of the University of Wisconsin School of Law (Go Badgers!) neglected to send boy-crazy Ivana to jail and instead gave her a relative slap on the wrist fine of $300.

Samardzic was thrilled with the judgement and asked the judge if it was okay if she paid in pesto of which she like a gazillion leftover from her trip.

Unfortunately for justice, SPARTACUS OUTLAW THE SLAYER OF LEVIATHANS AND POTENTIAL TWO-TIME GUEST OF THE WISCONSIN PENAL SYSTEM this meant the jury would be one short.

But fear not, Judge Watts consulted the Scepter of Paul Ryan which instructed him that the trial would move forward because to declare a mistrial would cost money and well, Spartacus is black and probably did it anyway and it’s much more fiscally responsible to lock up blacks than to let them run around wasting taxpayers money.  Especially one’s christened with such a powerful moniker as SPARTACUS OUTLAW DEFLECTOR OF LIGHTNING BOLTS AND RECKLESS USER OF ILLEGAL FIREARMS.

Judge Watts then threw the Scepter Of Paul Ryan into the Milwaukee County Circuit Court Cauldron of Zanzibar and proclaimed to the remaining 11 jurors “It has been foretold” and disappeared in a cloud of purple smoke.

Following 10 minutes of deliberation the jury sentenced Mr. Outlaw to be broken on the wheel at dusk of the following eve.

Commenting in court for absolutely no fucking reason, Ivana’s socialist brother Bojan remarked “”I guess it’s just one of those situations where, you know, (expletive) happens.”

/

Something Authorly

I often have hypothetical conversations with famous people I’ll never meet.  Long, weird involved convos where I explain that just because you believe yourself to be awesome and incredible and you’ve managed to surround yourself with only people that confirm your righteous-itude (with dusting of badass-osity) does not make you any of those things.  It makes you are manic little man who doesn’t know he’s gay.  Sorry Tom.

But I’ll make an exception for Kim Kardashian.  I don’t want to go into great detail about her faults.  I want to have an increasingly awkward conversation with her where I have no clue who the fuck she is.

Let me get this straight: You’re a famous hot chick?

I’ve had this fantasy many times.  It usually ends with me being thrown out of the house party (it’s always a house party).  Sometimes it ends with me banging her.  As any encyclopedia will tell you: vapid dilettantes love to be treated like shit.  The verbal abuse soothes their facsimile of a soul which aches with the bitter knowledge that they are profoundly undeserving of all they have.  And Kim is most undeserving.  She is the human equivalent of Leona Helmsley’s dog.

Here’s how this conversation goes down in my head:

[I'm in some fancy house somewhere.  Very modern, very white, very spartan, very stupid.  I don't know who got me in but suddenly I'm being introduced to Kimmy.  She eyes me to figure out if I am "somebody".  She decides I am not.]

Host Type Person: And this is Kim.

Me [whilst shoving hor d'uevres in my face-hole]: Hi.

Kimmy: Hello.

[Long pause while I give Kim a stare like I'm trying to figure out who she is.  She smiles, expectant.]

Me: Have we met before?  You look familiar.

Kimmy: I don’t think so.

Host Type Person: Kim is an actress.

[Kimmy beams.]

Me: What’s your name?

[Kimmy frowns at Host Type Person and begins looking around the room.  She absently spins a diamond ring on her finger.]

Host Type Person: It’s Kim Kardashian.  [chuckles and then turns to Kimmy] Himbokal doesn’t watch a lot of television.  He he.

Me: Are you kidding?  I watch a ton of shit.  Even crappy reality garbage.  [pause for a moment]  I know!  You were on Will & Grace!  Not the skinny one but the skanky drunk one!  Is Will gay in real life?

Kimmy: I’ve never heard of that show.

Host Type Person: Kim Kardashian.  Keeping up with the Kardashians?  On E?

Me: Who did what to the where now? [I finish my champagne and whistle for the waiter; waving the glass.]

Host Type Person: I’d appreciate if you stopped whistling.  There are other guests who would like champagne too.

Me: Wait, were you on that show with the really douchy guy, what was his name?  Jonathan.  That hair show, Blow Out?  And he was always breaking down and his eyes would well up and he’d say something awesome like, “I just try so hard sometimes and people just don’t understand that I can give anything less than the greatest hair care known to man.  It’s so tough when you care about hair so much.”  And then he’d sweep a bunch of scissors and hairspray off a counter cuz he cared so hard about razor cuts and shit.  You remember that show?  So awesome.

Kimmy: He used to cut my hair when I was younger.  He gave me one of the worst cuts I’ve ever had.

Me: Eventually it’ll grow out.  Have you had these little shrimp things?  Fucking epic.

Kimmy: He cut my hair like 7 years ago.

Me: These things take time.

Kimmy: Okay well it was nice to meet you.   [Offers hand]

Me: [moving my plate of shrimp away] Actually this stuff is free.  You can just get it from the waiters.

Kimmy: Whatever. [Turns and stalks away.]

Me: Good luck with the acting thing!  Landing the first part is always the hardest!

Host Type Person: [Angrily turning to me] Get out.

Me: Not without that champagne.

/

Something Authorly

Something Authorly will be taking a short break this week from Tuesday Sept. 4th through Friday Sept. 7th.  This is for two reasons:  1.) I need to re-charge the mental batteries as the last four months of four posts per week has drained the creative juices a bit and 2.) I actually got a real-life jobby-job this week with a desk and people telling me what to do.  People telling me what does not include the words “Hey, isn’t this a post day?  You better get on it.  Forget the TPS reports, we need more butt-hole jokes.”  Unless this place is way more laid-back than I’ve been led to believe. 

For those of you who complain about not being able to keep up, you’ll get a reprieve from me gumming up your FB news feed with my incessant babbling.  And for Will, the world’s greatest intern, this is unfortunately going to put a negative dent into SA’s 3rd quarter earnings to the tune of  three cents.  But with SA’s new income stream I’ll be more than happy to siphon some off those funds to offset our loss in advertising revenue.

See you next Tuesday.  (And I don’t mean that in the wimpy way that people who want to say cunt but can’t bring themselves to do it mean it)

/

Something Authorly