Archive for October 2009
1. Grunta-saurus Rex
Quite common, actually. Suitable for Project Managers, bosses, etc. who’s only “motivational” technique consists of growling and threatening their staff. Costume comes with extra sharp claws.
Not a reflection on one’s work ethic. Rather, a good reminder to the worker-peons on where they stand in the corporate food chain. (Just above algae and nematodes, but below the lesser-vertebrates).
3. The Procedure Queen
For those who live, eat and sleep for paperwork, but who couldn’t wipe their own arse if there wasn’t a procedure to explain how to do it.
(Arse-wiping Procedure included, for $12.99 extra)
4. The Walking Brain-Dead
5. Huge DoucheBag
Bag of money comes extra.
6. The Phantom of the Office
Costume comes with sack-cloth and ashes.
A great way to recognize office idiots who can’t speak freaking English, unless the first letters of every word combine to make another word.
8 . Soul-Sucking Vampire
Costume can also be used as a Human Resource Manager. You decide.
9. Clunk-FuK™ the Mindless Safety Robot
Clunk-FuK™ likes to focus on the most trivial, painfully obvious safety tips, while totally ignoring the more serious issues.
Also great for helping train staff, during Safety Orientation Week.
10. Pavlov The Dog
Perfect the Wannabee Yes-Men, who slaver and drool at whatever comes out of their bosses’ mouth.
11. Dr. Spaztard the Mad Scientist
Are you a brilliant PhD scientist put in charge of multi-million dollar project? Do you also have the social skills of Rain-Man?
Then THIS is the costume for you!
12. Corporate Drones/Worker Bees
Like the slug costume, a great way of reminding staff on where they stand in the grand scheme of things.
Buckets are included. But you can’t keep the pollen.
Tipper, after retrieving those rubber IKEA balls for 5 straight hours…
To quote my sister: “She has no shame.”
Making Shit out of Construction Paper
I remember visiting a paper mill some years ago, and seeing pink construction paper being made. Tons and tons of it, rolling off the machine. And I remember thinking: That’s gotta supply every kindergarten class in North America for the next 10 years.
Because really, what good is construction paper? Other than prevent tantrums and/or kids from killing each other?
Because what better way to distract the little urchins than to give them lame-ass “Arts and Craps” projects that they bring home to Mommy? (Who then puts them on the fridge, and discards a week later).
We should give our kids paints, paper, and pencils, instead. Let’s teach them REAL art.
In the mean time, let’s find a better use for our limited supply of trees.
Okay, those were fun in Grade Four. We took plastic triangles and squares, and divided them up inside circles.
But when, outside school, have we EVER used Venn diagrams in real life?
To this day, I still don’t understand what the point of those God-damned things were.
Learning to Play the Recorder
Okay, let’s set things straight: there is only ONE decent recorder tune ever made, and that’s the theme from the Friendly Giant.
Aside from that, the recorder is the Lamest. Musical Instrument. Ever.
Nothing like a class full of thirty 12-year-old kids, trying to learn how to play “Hot Cross Buns” at the same time.
Things like that make me want to puncture my eardrums with a pencil to end my misery.
I dont’ know what the point of it is, because outside Grade 7, you will NEVER play the recorder again.
This is no good recorder sheet-music. There are no hot recorder concerts. There are no decent recorder CD’s to download onto your I-pod.
Nope. There is just NO use for the recorder in our society.
(Except to play the theme song for the Friendly Giant).
And that show is off the air now.
Okay, I know you English Lit majors out there will scream for my blood for saying this…but seriously, what was the POINT of Shakespeare?
The last time I read Ol’ Bill was in 1982. When I was in English class…when I had to.
And I don’t miss him ONE bit.
I remember the stories were adequate, at best. But certainly not good enough to make me run screaming to the bookstore, and ask: “Oooh! Oooh! Do you have the latest copy of King Henry the IV, Part II? “
Call me a heretic, but to be honest, I much prefer to read Stephen King.
Shakespeare has been analyzed, and re-analyzed, over and over. He’s had his time. Let’s stop beating this dead horse into bone dust.
Surely, in the past 500 years, there is some OTHER literature we can force-feed to our kids.
In my senior year of High School, I took this course called “Functions and Relations”. We learned how to sketch parabolas. We learned what hyperbolas (hyperbolae?) were, and we could flip-flop them around the x-axis. It was quite tricky, actually.
And we NEVER used it again.
At the time, I thought I was mature enough to realize that this course was just covering the basics, and in University, I’d soon see what all these silly equations were for.
But like I said…we NEVER used it again.
And I have a PhD in Engineering.
So you can only imagine how useful this was to the kids who went on to study Liberal Arts or Business Admin.
Okay, I know this is a lame-ass photo of a stupid big fish.
And I know some of you will find this incredibly boring.
But it’s MY stupid big fish. It’s the biggest one I’ve ever caught.
It was one of the highlights of my summer.
So I’m gonna post this.
PS. My more genteel Earth-Mother Granola readers need not be concerned for the welfare of Mr. Pike, here.
This big guy was catch-and-released.
I don’t mind veggies. If fact, I’ve even been known to occasionally eat them.
But when the only munchies are a tray of raw carrots, raw cauliflower, and raw broccoli, I’m sorry, that is NOT an appetizer.
That is forage.
And I don’t have a rumen to digest it with.
Let’s get one thing straight: appetizers should, at the very minimum, involve cheese of some kind. Or things wrapped in bacon.
Rule of thumb: if the dog won’t touch it, then neither should you.
…in the turkey stuffing (Gaggggg!)
I blame the Vegans for this.
Mixing those maggoty things (like fly larvae) in with the savory meat…that just defies words. That is so AGAINST all that is righteous and holy.
Raisins are fine in trail mix.
Let’s keep ‘em there, where they belong.
I don’t’ mind when we say grace at the dinner table. Just don’t ask ME to do it.
Especially when the host is well aware of my agnostic beliefs, and they’re deliberately putting me on the spot, to prove some kind of point.
Hey, get the five year old to do it. Everyone will think it’s cute…let HIM deal with the pressure.
Going around the table saying what we’re thankful for
Maybe when we were six, this was a quasi-fun, educational exercise.
But now that we’re all adults, can we just agree to just STOP this lame-ass charade, once and for all?
Don’t make me play. I’m too old for dinner games. I don’t care what Cousin Bendix is thankful for. I just want to eat.
Screaming free-range children
Especially during dinner time.
Like good intentions, they should be carried OUT.
Being forced to talk to boring people who aren’t even related to you
“Oh, Friar…..nice to see you. Where are you now? Where…are you? Are you in Splat Creek? …how do you like your job? Where are you now? Do you have a new job? Is it in Atlanta? Did I tell you about my GPS? I drove…I drove all the way to Denny’s with it…it’s like I didn’t need a map. Do you know I have a new GPS?….I didn’t even need a map…Is your new job in Alaska? “
Bring back the screaming free-range children, PLEASE.
Left-overs out the ying-yang
Don’t get me wrong. I love left-overs. Reheated turkey and gravy the next day, with mashed potatoes. Mmmmmm.
Or a few nice turkey-mayo sammiches, on squishy white bread the following day or so. Mmm.
Turkey soup on Day 4. Mm.
But after day 7, when we’re onto creamed arse of turkey…okay, I’ve had enough.
Some optimists will point out that we should be grateful for dirty dishes. At least we have enough food to eat. At least we have the dishes to eat with.
True enough. We are quite fortunate, in that way.
But I’m sorry. Washing dishes still SUCKS. You can’t make me feel thankful for washing them.
You can’t make me.
You can’t. You can’t. You can’t.
(*Screams, running from the room*).
PS. Before my family starts yelling at me for writing this, I will say one thing I was thankful for this year: most of these things didn’t happen.