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Wednesday, June 13, 2012

What you can do

The world is a strange place.  And now New Yorkers have to go thirsty!  Want to know why?  It's because King Bloomberg has decided that no one can drink more than 16 ounces of soda.  Or is he a mayor?  I get confused.  Obviously he gets confused, too.  Anyway, Mayor King Bloomberg decided that it's bad for you to have more than 16 ounces of soda at one time so he's going to make it illegal to sell more than that.  It must be good to be the king.

On the flip side, it's still legal to go out and buy a carton of cigarettes and smoke them all at once.  That can't be bad for you because Bloomberg still allows you to buy and smoke what you want, right?  And Vodka must still be good for you.  Hell, you can go out and buy a half a gallon of that stuff and chug it down all at once.  Bloomberg doesn't seem to care about vodka or cigarettes.  But try and sip that 17th ounce of soda and he'll be right on your ass, fatty!

How did you New Yorkers vote this guy in?  Next, he'll be telling you how much candy you can eat and then he'll probably put Willy Wonka in prison for dealing candy!  The prison bread tastes like prison bread!  The prison water tastes like prison water!  The snozberries taste like...well, you can't taste the snozberries because King Bloomberg will probably think they're bad for you and then outlaw them.  Poor Willie Wonka!

How about we have a vote on a few other laws?  Maybe New Yorkers should be allowed to vote on a law that says King Bloomberg is only allowed to ride in a car half a mile a day.  Too many emissions, his riding in a car isn't good for me!  So he can ride for half a mile and then he has to get out and walk wherever he's going.  It's not healthy to ride around in a limo and choke me with the smog that comes out of the tailpipe!

So here's the new enemy of New Yorkers according to King Bloomberg.  A fat guy with a Super Big Gulp.  I guess there's no crime in New York, and no unemployment.  The big concern is soda now.  Just like the fun people in Washington D.C. if you want someone who does this kind of shit elected as king of your city, more power to you.  The people in Washington elected a crackhead, why shouldn't New York have a king?

Saturday, June 2, 2012

All men want is Sex

All they want is sex!

I heard a girl complaining the other day that all men want is sex.  This was after she had come out of a dance club and had been unsuccessful in picking up a man.  She was dressed in this really small dress with her boobs hanging out.  And she thinks all men want is sex, huh?  People are just unreal.

All penguins want is snow.  All cats want is to sleep.  All cannibals want is to eat people.  (Wow, where did that one come from?)  Are those statements true?  I want more than sex.  I'm a man.  So I'm sure cannibals want more than to eat people!  I mean there has to be more than just luring the nice National Geographic photographer behind the Chief's hut to smack him in the head with a rock and then make a stew out of him.  (or her)

So why would some women get the feeling that all men want is sex?  That is what a lot of men are looking for, but you have to take into account where you're finding these men.  At a dance club most men are there trying to pick women up for sex, yes.  How about a grocery store?  Do all the men in there want sex?

Woman: Hey Big Boy, what brings you here?  Would you like to buy me a drink?"

Man:  Uh...I just want some carrots.  Why are you hitting on me in the vegetable section?

That poor guy just wants carrots!  He's not in the grocery store looking for sex.  He wants vegetables!  Maybe if you looked in different places, men are there for more than sex?  We might actually have other interests!  Or maybe not.  Las Vegas is a pretty self centered city.  A lot of people here just want to use other people.  

Ok, I haven't answered my question about what men want.  But at least I put up a blog.  I'll leave you with a good piece of advice, though:

If you're visiting some strange tribe way out in the middle of nowhere, don't go back behind the Chief's hut no matter what someone tells you is back there.  Not even if you think you might find some sex.  You'll just end up in a stew.

Friday, June 1, 2012

A few old things from my past...still very amusing, though!

Who Do I Think I am?

I was yelled at the other day. I was invited into an office and then the guy began yelling things like, "Who do you think you are?" I looked down at my nametag, but that didn't help as it said Write name here. So who do I think I am? I think I'm writing a book, but since I'm not finished am I still an author? He yelled at me, "Do you think you're paid to make decisions?" I wanted to answer that, but couldn't decide.

A while ago I actually walked to the Human Resources office and asked for a job description for what I do. I was told it was still "being written." Next time I'll check with Martian Resources, maybe they'll know what I'm paid to do. The Humans certainly don't seem to have a clue. So since I don't have a job description, who do I think I am? Am I paid to make decisions? Obviously the people who pay me can't decide either!

So what am I actually paid to do? See the supervisor and be told what to do? But how can he tell me what to do if there isn't a job description? A lot of memos get put out where I work, but nobody ever seems to sign or take credit for them. "I want flags put up everywhere!" one memo will say. And when someone else doesn't want flags put up, the person who wrote the memo says, "I didn't write that, I don't know where it came from!"

Who do these people think they are? I can't understand these people who won't make a statement and stand behind it. "I didn't say that!" they'll scream at me as I look at the memo with their name on it that says whatever they claim they didn't say.

Back once again to who I think I am. Can I make decisions? I believe the answer to that is yes. I can make decisions, and I will stand behind that. Can the guy who yelled at me make decisions? He can't decide. He certainly has a talent for making enemies, though. I've made the decision that I don't like him. I should put that in a memo. Imagine getting a memo from me that says, "I don't like you." How horrifying, huh?

I'd like to think I'm one of those people you should be careful of on your way up in the world because you may be meeting me on the way down, too. And I remember how everyone treats me. So who do I think I am? I'm WRITE NAME HERE! So there. 

Who is this guy?

Ever run into someone who remembers you from long ago and you don't remember who they are? So many people come and go in my life and to be honest, a lot of them are unimportant to me. If I stocked shelves with you six or seven years ago, I don't know who you are! Did we mix cake batter at a party in San Vito, Italy twenty years ago? Who the hell are these people?

Memory can be a really funny thing. I can remember going to a bright, Italian beach with two young, lovely women twenty years ago! I can remember their names! I can remember how sunny it was, how much fun we had, laying out our beach towels! But I can't remember the name of the guy who shook my hand the other day. I think I worked with him about six years ago. How come he remembers me? Do I make that big of an impression on people? MY GOODNESS, maybe I'd better behave a bit better now!

Obviously this guy didn't, because he shook my hand and seemed happy to see me! Maybe he watched me mock someone else? I wonder to myself if those two lovely women who went with me to the beach remember that day, or even remember me?  "Hey Baby! Nice bathing suit! When does the Elf Queen need it back?"  Do these people remember me calling them stupid? Do they remember me mocking them, or imitating their walk?

Well, I'm quite certain I didn't say anything like that. Shockingly, both young girls obviously found me amusing or they probably wouldn't have been at the beach with me. So if I had said that, they might have even laughed! Ha ha! What an impression! Elf Queen. I'm just Mr. Original, aren't I? Is this making an impression? Maybe I'd better behave in what I write? Nah, if I behaved in what I write these blogs probably wouldn't be as interesting and you people wouldn't be reading this.

Who do I remember from my past? I remember the women. But how many men forget lovely women from their past? Actually, we probably forget quite a few when we meet new, lovely women. Do I remember any guys from my past? One or two. I'm supposed to look towards the future, aren't I? Am I going to be signing books in a bookstore someday when some excited person comes in screaming, "Don't you remember me? We mixed cake batter together in San Vito twenty years ago!"

"Uh...were you the one wearing the outfit the Elf Queen needed back?"
I worked with quite a few women in the Air Force and to be completely honest, I can only remember the names
of two or three of them. And two of the three are the two girls on the Italian beach! I wonder what kind of impression I left on them? Will I be running up to them in a bookstore some day screaming, "Don't you remember me? I'm the guy that made the Elf Queen suit remark on the Italian beach!" Probably not because I told you, I DIDN'T ACTUALLY EVER SAY THAT TO ANYONE! At least not that I recall.

To the few people from my past who I do remember, if you see me again it'll be lovely to see you and shake your hand! And to those whom I don't'll still be lovely to see you again and shake your hand! I'll just pretend I do remember you. And please.....get the Elf Queen her suit back!
You’d think this wouldn’t work, but it did. Did I actually do this to a guy? 

Both of these are pulled from the book "Vegas Ramblings".  The book is in black and white though, no color.