Thursday, June 29, 2006

That old-timer from the Y keeps calling me "Curly-Girlie"

I was at the Y again this morning shaving after my workout when I noticed a small crowd of those old Y residents in their stained underpants and yellowed shirts. They were in the shadows of the locker area, gigling and pointing at me. Finally, the one who had tried to snap my ass the other day stepped into the light and said this to me: "Loooooking gooooood, Curly-Girlie. Why don't you come over here and give gramps a kiss?" I took a run at them but they all dispersed, giggling like school girls, before I could grab any. That old bitch is going to have some regrets about his recent behavior, I can promise you that. (But, seriously, how does my perm look? Good, right? I don't look like a Curly-Girlie, do I?)

Wednesday, June 28, 2006

Why's everybody laughing at my perm?

Why's everybody laughing at my perm? It looks good, right? I mean, I think it looks good. It's all wavey and full-bodied. Yeah, it looks good. I'm pretty sure it looks good. Seriously, how does it look? Only your honest opinion will help. Do I look like an ass? I look like an ass, don't I? What the fuck was I thinking? What self-respecting man gets his hair permed? Well, what the hell do I do now? I paid $250 to look like a douche bag. What? You don't think it looks that bad? Do you think I should keep it? Really? No, seriously, how does it really look?

Monday, June 26, 2006

The Y stinks of failure

I dislike going to the Y in the morning because that's when the old losers who live upstairs come down to use the locker room to shower and clean up after a night in the gutter. I was shaving after working out this morning when two old guys in stained underwear and yellowed t-shirts took up spots at the sinks on either side of me. They both put one foot on their respective sinks and began clipping their yellow/grey petrified toe nails. The pace became fast and soon clippings were flying all over the place. The sound was obnoxious, like the inside of an arcade. I think, at one point, they were battling, with me in the middle, like two armies launching mortars at each other. Finally, a clipping hit me on the face, less than an inch from my eye. "Enough!" I yelled. The two old-timers slunk away from the sinks and into the locker area. A few minutes later I saw one of them sneaking up on me, twisting a towel, preparing to snap me in the ass. He was giddy, his toothless mouth flapping all over the place. "Don't even think about it, you old bitch!" I yelled at his reflection in the mirror. "I will snap your neck faster than a fart disappears in the wind!" He looked stung, as if he'd just fallen and broken his hip for the fourth time. This is how you have to deal with these old Y residents. Otherwise, they'll shit all over you.

Friday, June 23, 2006

Please, I'd rather not talk about it

As it turns out, Shirley LaFioegras really did screw Lenny Chookoo standing up in the toilet stall in the women's bathroom at work. What are the chances of that? When Les found out, he felt badly for pressing charges against me for hitting him in the face with a hammer and dropped the charge down to a misdemeanor. I was released from jail this morning. But, please, about last night, I'd really rather not talk about it, okay? I have some healing to do, internally and externally, and internally again. I'll talk to you again on Monday.

Thursday, June 22, 2006

My cellmate doesn't strike me as the kind of guy who bluffs about sodomy

Getting back to my previous posting about bail money, has anyone been able to scratch some together? My cellmate has vowed to plow me tonight if I don't come up with bail money for both of us and, quite frankly, he doesn't strike me as someone who bluffs about sodomy. So, if you were considering helping me with bail, I'd really, really, REALLY appreciate it if you could try to post it before nightfall. Thanks for your consideration.

Wednesday, June 21, 2006

Les's face had the funniest expression on it right before I hit it with my hammer

In hindsight, I probably should have realized that hitting someone in the face with a hammer was a felony before I cocked Les LeFoiegras right on his cheekbone with the ballpeen I keep in my desk. But, boy, did he ever have a funny expression when he came out of the bathroom and realized he was about to get hit in the face with a hammer. I'll never forget it. It was as if his expression was saying, "Oh my God, I'm about to get hit in the face with a hammer. Why? Why would someone want to go and do a thing like hitting me in the face with a hammer for? William's going to hit me in the face with a hammer? That's total bullshit! I should be hitting him in the face with a hammer for the lies he told about my wife screwing Lenny Chookoo standing up in the toilet stall in the women's bathroom!" Then, whammo! Anyway, I'm in jail right now, so if you know any lawyers or could spare any money for bail, I'd appreciate the help.

Tuesday, June 20, 2006

Les LaFoiegras has threatened to punch me in the temple

After a fight that lasted throughout the night and included two visits from the police and one from their parish priest, Shirley LaFoiegras was able to convince her husband, Les LaFoiegras, that she had not, in fact, screwed Lenny Chookoo standing up in the toilet stall in the women's bathroom like I said she had during our public argument yesterday. Well, apparently, Les is now directing his fury toward me, for some reason, and has made several public threats to punch me in one or both of my temples. For those who know me, my temples are two of my best features, so I'll be damned if I'm going to let Les LaFoiegras punch me there. I'm thinking about making a pre-emptive strike and hitting him in the face with a hammer when he comes out of the bathroom. I'll let you know how that turns out.

Monday, June 19, 2006

My hair turned white overnight

I woke up this morning to discover that my hair had turned as white as snow while I had been sleeping. I went to bed with brown hair and woke up an albini. I don't think this is going to play out well, I thought to myself as I drove to work. Sure enough, I was met at the office by Johnny Newpants, who called me "Powder." Next, I saw the new guy with Tourette's, who called me "Swanny-Swanny-Swan-Swan!" JoJo Rucksack started calling me "Grandpa Joe." But Shirley Lafoiegras really pissed me off the most. "You just keep getting weirder and weirder," she said to me when we passed in the hall. I told her to go sit on a cupcake, she yelled something back at me, and before you knew it, we were having at it. A crowd formed and, for effect, I barked this at her: "Oh, yeah, well at least I didn't screw Lenny Chookoo standing up in the toilet stall in the women's bathroom like you did!" and walked away. Of course, it wasn't true, but they didn't know that, including Shirley's husband, Les, who was part of the assembled crowd and with whom she'd been married for 20 years, nor their two teenaged children, who were there as part of Take Your Teenager to Work Day. Let them sort it out, I thought. It's not my problem.

Thursday, June 15, 2006

Did JoJo Rucksack say "bugging" or "buggering"?

JoJo Rucksack came into my cubicle the other day to see if I'd be willing to deliver a package to our boss's office. Why, I asked JoJo, couldn't he do it himself? "Ah, that jerk's been buggering me ever since I started working here," he replied before walking down the hall. After a moment, I thought to myself, Did he say 'bugging me' or 'buggering me'? Because, honestly, they mean two entirely different things. And, quite frankly, one of them isn't too nice.

Monday, June 12, 2006

Why did that kid have to kick me in the nuts?

I'd had it up to here with that paper boy of mine, who's always late with my Sunday newspaper. Last Sunday, I waited for him on my doorstep and started tapping my watch in an exaggerrated fashion as he approached me on his bike. Before I could say, "You're late!" he got off his bike, walked over to me and kicked me right in my balls. "Why?" I thought to myself as I writhed on the ground, "Why did that kid have to go and kick me in the nuts?"

Wednesday, June 07, 2006

Quifi MaMa acted like she didn't even know me

My heart beat faster yesterday when I spotted Quifi MaMa in the supermarket. "Quifi MaMa!" I called out as she approached me. "Let me explain .." I started, but she walked right past me like we were total strangers. "Quifi MaMa!" I called after her. "Quifi MaMa!" But she was already gone, vanishing into the frozen food section. I dropped to my knees and screamed at the heavens, "Quuiiiiiiiiiifi MaaaaaaaaaaaaMaaaaaa!! Why?!"
"What you want?" came a shrill voice from the next aisle. "You talk so much, you hurt ears!"

Tuesday, June 06, 2006

I've been banned from Madame Shu's Massage Parlor

Never again will I take advice from Johnny Newpants. I'll never feel the gentle touch of Quifi MaMa's hands again because I've been officially banned from Madame Shu's Massage Parlor. How was I supposed to know that screaming "thatswhatimtalkingabout!" in a high-pitched voice would distinctly sound like a derogatory phrase for a Chinese peasant whore? What are the chances of that, for Christ's sake? They can't be very good. Oh, Quifi MaMa, I will never forget you, my sweet love.

Monday, June 05, 2006

I think I'm going to start yelling, "That's what I'm talking about!" every time I have an orgasm

Whether I'm alone in the shower, or at Madame Shu's Massage Parlor, or in the toilet stall at work, or with my favorite lady, I think I'm going to start yelling out, "That's what I'm talking about!" every time I have an orgasm. Johnny Newpants from work swears the ladies love it when you do that, and while I've been burned a few times by Johnny's advice in the past, I think I'm going to give this one a try. Stay tuned.