Alas, I cannot get through a single news day without reading an article about lawsuits and laws to re-inform me of society’s greed over the smallest of actions and overburdening political correctness. I also wonder how many times I’ve used “alas” in a post. It’s probably because I lock myself in a bathroom, stare at the mirror, and chant Shakespeare three times to summon the frilly playwright for personal vocabulary lessons. And to talk about wenches over tea.
Read: Phrase Mocking Asians on NY CVS Receipt as I try to tell a tale without my cultural bias. Meet Hyun Lee, a woman of Korean descent who wanted a simple day in NYC getting some photos developed at a nearby CVS, probably during her 6th trip to Starbucks because no self-respecting Manhattanite keeps their Blood Coffee-Content below 0.08%. Now either the photo-developing employee was extremely racist or had an unethical sense of humor, but he decided to
Yet again I’ve been thinking about work in my sleep when I should be dreaming about bikini guns or watermelon bombs or steak.
"...urghmm Which database should we use for this test?" (how is the girlfriend even awake to hear me?) "Are they able to get hacked?" *searches around on bed for something* *gives up and lays back down* "No... no. zzzz"
Or as it may also be labeled, “Sh*t My Girlfriend Gets To Laugh At While I’m Dreaming”.
Dead sleep. Zombie Geoff is accidentally rustled by girlfriend rolling over in bed. "We just gotta find a nephew that can block the missiles!" And she starts laughing... "Whatever, just replace the missiles with deer. We gotta kill that deer!" Resume dead sleep.
Work, families, and rampaging deer in one nice chaotic dream.
…Alas, I’ve been lazy for a blog site that’s reached it’s 2 year anniversary. Cry and eat ice cream between now and
Hmm…. three or so months after not writing a thing. What to say… it’s about as awkward as seeing somebody in the hallway in your office that you generally acknowledge but have nothing more than a nod and a “Hey, good day, huh?” Should we act like we’ve seen each other in the hall recently? Like I’ve been an ass and faintly acknowledged every one who has shown any interest in my past writing. I’ve checked into a few of my favorite old WordPress blogs over these past few months to see if … shit, distracted again. Maybe it’s because I’ve lost a certain type of motivation to writing or maybe it’s because dinosaurs are roaming in my mind begging for a chewy, yummy bacon strip. I’m not sure, but I do know that these Velociraptors keep eying me from across the bar and their unibrow can only keep me entertained for so long.
What have I been up to? Saving the world, of course. I mean, if I’ve previously named this site ‘For Better GENiUS’ you could only assume that I had some legitimate stake in providing to the world…. penises rule the world… wait… those weren’t my words. This particular person staring over my shoulder named Journey decided that big ol’ dicks had to rule the world… and wow… sexist isn’t she? Not even giving credit to her own kind. Pigs. I just snorted like a pig and I’ll admit it. Maybe it’s because I like bacon… I think I already said bacon once this post, maybe not, but who’s keeping track? Not me. I had some other idea there but as this is a stream of conscious post I cannot … I lost it… again.
In surely the most diabolical scheme of a artistic madman since the kid who put cherry bombs in the elementary school toilets back on that day that you remember that prank, somebody is now taking the time (and your money) to sell you canned air.
*#$(&#! I opened the lid too far and let all of the $10 foreign air out. Now coworkers are looking at me funny as I’m wildly sniffing everything around me to breathe in this precious gift before it blends in with our stagnant, boring work air. I want to open my own brand of Movie Theaters From Around The Globe themed air cans where you’ll get that unmistakable popcorn-cooked-in-the-office-kitchen-microwave smell without the annoying hassle of kernel shells stuck between your teeth and gums. Read more…
For all the men reading this post, I’m going to let you in on a little secret: the girl that keeps glancing at you from across the bar (because you’re practically staring at her without blinking and she’s kind of getting creeped out) didn’t wear her best curve-fitting, matching outfit to impress you or any other guy tonight. Women dress up more for the accepted opinion of other women rather than the accepted opinion of men. I’d like to believe that guys do not typically care what their buddies wear out to the bar; that is unless one of them is supposed to be your designated wingman and he’s looking like resident bum, Carl, from the back alley on downtown U Street.
Even as I’m writing this post I can’t fully immerse myself in this idea since I’m vaguely aware it’s even a problematic situation. There’s an unseen social peer pressure existing in her clothing choices that has been transparent to my eyes (if I say is something is “unseen” … can it still be transparent?). A typical college-aged girl has already learned how to flaunt her figure to catch a guy’s junk* regardless of her outfit, but first she has to consider the group of girlfriends she’ll be going out with.
If she’s a reasonable, middle-grounded modest girl, not too much of a vain attention whore, but not so quiet people forget she’s in the room, then she won’t want to be appear as the “ugliest” out of her group nor the overly dressed. Guy’s may have their non-discriminating wingman lined up on the carrier deck ready to make a strategic pass targeted at the “ugly” girl so his flight leader can snatch the good one without any distractions (I went way too far into that analogy). Unless you’re feeling some female blue-balls** and are dying for sex, Read more…