Real Texts - Office Edition

So my job usually fluctuates between insanely busy and mind-numbingly boring. In either case, I couldn't resist replying to this email from our Secretary... Wait, they don't like that word, do they? I'd call her an Administrative Assistant, but she really doesn't do anything, nor does she ever "assist" anyone. Mostly, she walks around the office with her stinky old lady perfume that she bathes in, makes a lot of noise and bothers us via email about RSVPing for company lunches and such. Anyway, I'll just call her Bozo, she has the hair for it...

From: The Clown, Bozo
Sent: Friday, April 20, 2012 10:07 AM
To: Pittsburgh
Subject: Snacks

The company provides a limited amount of snacks for us to enjoy, along with coffee and tea.  However, certain items - like the caramel cream candies and peanut-butter-filled pretzels - do not last as long as they should, which indicates that some of you may be pigging out (I have no idea who)!   Please limit yourself to just a couple pieces of candy or pretzels per day so that we can continue to provide snacks on a limited basis for everyone.

Thanks!

Bozo

Bozo The Clown

Administrative Assistant

From: Trbobitch
Sent: Friday, April 20, 2012 10:10 AM
To: The Clown, Bozo; Pittsburgh
Subject: RE: Snacks

How long exactly are we expecting them to last? Maybe we should come up with a formula for how many pieces each person can have per day so that they last the appropriate amount of time… Anyone found taking more than their share per day can be publicly humiliated by wearing a rubber pig nose the rest of the day ;-)

(Obviously said facetiously to demonstrate the absurdity of bothering hard working professionals with such ridiculousness)

From: The Clown, Bozo
Sent: Friday, April 20, 2012 10:18 AM
To: Trbobitch; Pittsburgh
Subject: RE: Snacks

Great idea, Trbo!  I’ll order one of these:  

I don’t actually keep very close tabs on it.  But when a big jar of regular pretzel sticks last several weeks and the peanut-filled ones are gone in three days – well, you do the math!

Bozo

(So I did the math... It's a 2.75 lbs jar of pb filled pretzels (pretzels are fairly dense/heavy). The distro for our office has 30 people on it. Assume 10 of these people work from home at least some of the time. That's 20 people taking a handful out of this jar on a daily basis... She's LUCKY it lasts 3 days)

And because I can't leave well enough alone:

From: Trbovich, Amanda
Sent: Friday, April 20, 2012 10:20 AM
To: Rychener, Helena; Pittsburgh
Subject: RE: Snacks

Buying the regular pretzel sticks sounds like a logical solution to me. Everyone can then bring their own jar of peanutbutter J

(What I really wanted to say was, if it stops these stupid emails from going out, buy the fucking regular pretzels!!)

From: The Clown, Bozo
Sent: Friday, April 20, 2012 10:22 AM
To: Trbobitch; Pittsburgh
Subject: RE: Snacks

It is a logical solution.  But when we all prefer the other kind, it kinda sucks that we have to stop ordering them because we can’t control ourselves!  However, if it comes to that, I can certainly order snacks that no one likes very much.  Problem solved : )

Bozo

(OH boy! Threaten the one other person besides you who cares enough about this to be scared that you won't order the peanut butter filled pretzels!! Give me a fucking BREAK!)

After some deliberation, H and I decided that Bozo, herself, is in fact the notorious pretzel thief. We came to this conclusion based on the following:

• According to the other email respondents, no one knew these pretzels existed in our office.
• One of these people has an office right outside the kitchen
• On Bozo's desk is a jar filled with these elusive "carmel cream candies", Bozo's desk is actually in the reception area, which is a separate part of the building from where everyone else is.
• Even though we supposedly have a "snack budget" - it seems that snacks are purchased sporadically. We have gone several months without any snacks in the kitchen from Staples. Either that, or they are purchased regularly and not put in the kitchen... hmmmm.

So I have solved the great mystery of the Pittsburgh Office Snack Theif, can I have a peanut butter pretzel???

Muddy Penishead?

A real conversation I had with my non-state-sanctioned husband over Gtalk at work today** (yes, I am muddslider, don’t judge):

muddslider: I know right AND she's not mild to moderately retarded either

your god loves me

penishead: my GOD loves everyone

thats why he amde us

made

muddslider: um, have you SEEN carrot top?

penishead: variety

if we were all cool no one would know the difference***

muddslider: oh yeah, god loves the people of walmart

penishead: they are probably so much happier than we are

muddslider: or maybe he loves me so much that he tortures others for my amusement

that is actually a pretty awesome god

penishead: you are a twisted twisted person

muddslider: you're just now figuring that out?

penishead: no i knew it

i just need to point it out to you

maybe you will mend your ways

haha

muddslider: hahaha dreamer

penishead: Adam still loved Eve so I guess im ok

muddslider: even if you have to wear a fig leaf now

and all of our children will have to have sex with each other to populate the Earth

penishead: ugh

muddslider: but at least WE'RE not inbreds, right?

penishead: thats why we are so fucked up

no wonder we cant create a Utopia we're the people from WalMart

muddslider: yep

thanks god

penishead: and its all eves fault. cunning woman

muddslider: No, I'm pretty sure it's god's fault for letting Satan put the apple there

or wait

GOD put the apple there

just to be a manipulative bastard

"oh here, look at these yummy apples, but don't touch them"

penishead: the apple is a metaphor for the woman having sex with satan

muddslider: what??

what kind of Freudian bible school did you got to?

go to

penishead: its enoch

muddslider: who?

penishead: Enoch

 

muddslider: yes I read that, WTF is an enoch, sounds like something from starwars

penishead: he was eliminated by King James and the niceans from the bible

muddslider: little midget people with plasma guns

penishead: The Book of Enoch

muddslider: "Oh no, here come the Enoch! Cover your crotches!"

penishead: HAHAHA

muddslider: this is so going on the blog

penishead: just stop

muddslider: being funny? I can't

that's like asking me to stop breathing or stop painting my nails

penishead: my name is never to show up in your Blog ever

haha

muddslider: you have an alias, you know that

Well, you have several now

but for this one, I will call you penishead

** This was totally a work-related conversation as "penishead" is my unpaid adviser and source of inspiration.

*** I didn't bother pointing out to him that if we were indeed "all cool" then no one would know the difference; ergo, no one would ever get made fun of. Why bother having a serious philosophical conversation when it can degrade into making fun of the lost books of the bible?

Why America Kicks ASS!

Once, America was a beautiful nation. Not because of the idea of American exceptionalism or the arrogance that  comes with such an idea. Oh, she was exceptional, but not because of her power. She was exceptional because she was the only nation built on the idea that all men are free. America once believed that other nations are also sovereign and that it wasn't in her power or right to be involved in entangling alliances, nation-building campaigns or out-right crusades against any other nation, peoples or ideas.

There was once a time when people minded their own business, but helped each other when needed, welfare was in the form of charity and you respected other people's property (partially because there was once a sense that stealing was wrong and partially because your neighbor would blow you to Kingdom Come without batting an eyelash - or getting sentenced to hard time - if you tried to take his shit). Now we have a government that gets 100% of its funding by theft, throws you in jail for protecting your family and property and tells you what you can and cannot eat and how your children should be educated. They then take your stolen money and distribute it around the world in the form of foreign aid and nation building campaigns, all to "keep you safe".

What do Americans have to say about this?

"Amerika, fuck yeah!" quotes one toothless gentleman from Alabama.

"We have to get the terrorists before they get us!" quotes a housewife from Illinois, while she browses the latest issue of Cosmo. "My government is keeping me safe."

"I am making fortune on my Blackwater stocks!" says a businessman from New York, while he climbs into his BMW.

America, it's awesome, oh yes. We're straight up asskickers and everyone hates our wealth and freedom. I mean, shit, have you walked into a Walmart lately? Have you seen the ultra-cool people and the super cheap Chinese goods?

If I were a radical Muslim terrorist, I would be shaking in my boots after I was finished being totally jealous of this display of sheer AWESOME.

I can definitely say I would NOT fuck with this lady. Especially if my skintone was darker than the paint on the White House. Just sayin.

We raise our kids here in America with not only love and nurturing, but with judicial discipline and ninja training. Now shut the fuck up and get Mommy another beer before I slap those tears out of your god forsaken eyeballs!! Incidentally, if you'd like to purchase the child leash 3-in-1 Harness Backpack, Walmart does carry them. They're even made by Jeep, can that get any cooler? I mean, Jeep is probably made in Somalia or something, but who really cares? We're America, we don't need to make fluffy kid leashes when we have this:

That's right. Do you think they make asses like that in China? I don't think so. In fact, given the One Child Policy, I will bet that female ass (of any shape/size) is a hot commodity in China. Anyone seeing a business opportunity here?
(All photos courtesy of http://peopleofwalmart.com)

Ok, so that was funny, right? Really? Are you sure?

I find it quite sad, because many of these people really do represent the vast majority of "American Culture". the Japanese have samurais and ninjas, Italy has pasta and gondolas, France has wine and french toast... What does America have? Trailer trash, rednecks, 5th generation welfare recipients driving Cadillacs and lots and lots of bombs.

Why aren't you all very, very scared right now?

Open Letter to the Liberty "Movement"

Dear Liberty "Movement",

Why did I put movement in quotes? Because the first thing I think of when those words come out of my mouth (or off of my keyboard) is bowel movement. Right or wrong, all of this shit has left a very bad taste in my mouth and I do not believe any of us are accomplishing what we want (and I wonder what some of "us" actually want to accomplish...).

All too often I see or hear Libertarians, Truthers, Anarchists, Voluntaryists, etc etc calling people "stupid", "sheep", "sheeple", on and on. I hear them telling people they are not educated and they are brainwashed, yada yada. All you people do is run around pretending like you have all the answers. Why? Because you read the Internet?? The tool given to us by social engineers and controlled by social engineers. You spend hours each day reading infowars.com and arguing with others on facebook (probably while sitting in your mom's basement)... Get a life! Those people you call stupid sheeple actually have a better idea than you do about enjoying life. You are proof that those in power are winning when you spend your entire existence fighting them (and each other) instead of living the one life you were given (or, at least, will remember)!!

You are dogmatic like the Christian who wants to save the immortal soul, or the atheist who wants to free people from religious constraints. You want to "save" people by insulting them. You expect them to listen to you, fighting against the "elite" while you, yourself, are behaving far more elitist than anyone they have ever met in their lives. While people are watching American Idol, you are insulting them for celebrity worship, while at the same time, you are worshiping your own subset of celebrities (I like to call them quasi-celebrities). You stand in line to get books signed, shake hands and get pictures that you frame and put on your mantle. You brag on Facebook about meeting some guy that 95% of the population has never even heard of. You flock to their youtube pages and blogtalk radio shows to listen to them preach about "thinking for yourself", and afterwards you spew their talking points to others, insisting YOU are right.

"Big L" Libertarians play the politics game like any neocon or Deomocrat, without any of the same power or funding. Anarchists chastise Minarchists  for being "uneducated statists". Ron Paul supporters alienate 911 Truthers for having the balls to stand up and demand the truth because it "hurts" their political game. Truthers berate LIHOPers for not being "awake". Alex Jones listeners hang on his every word and think because he says to "go check it our for yourself" that they don't have to. The Paytriots want you to fund their lives as "full time activists", like Liberty Welfare. People in the Ron Paul and other "Liberty" campaigns work behind the scenes to gain power and control, destroying anyone who dares get in their way...

All the while, we ALL profess to be working toward the goal of freedom for humanity. Why do those in power keep winning? Because they are unified in their agenda of control, global domination (Pinky: Gee, Brain, what are we going to do tonight? The Brain: Same thing we do every night, Pinky. Try to take over the world.), social engineering and depopulation. They have a common goal, and they don't argue about it. They do it, and they do it right in front of our fucking faces. So while you all are arguing about whether 911 was an inside job or if Gary Johnson is better than Ron Paul, you are being controlled, manipulated and brainwashed just like everyone else, except at least those people are living their lives in ignorant bliss.

You guys can keep your cliques, your cult of personality and your dogma. You are all equally as manipulative and shitty as any other body of power. You are all equally as controlled as Republicans, Democrats and the apathetic. I'm not above it either, no one is. We have lost our humility (if we ever had any) and turned into exactly what we are trying to fight against, and I think a lot of people enjoy it. It's their way of gaining power and fame when they are not good enough to do so in the "real world".

I hope we can all find peace within ourselves, despite the other things going on in the world. I hope we can all never stop searching for truth and being open-minded, that we don't become the dogmatics we rail against. I hope we can all gain a scrap of humility and realize we are not perfect, nor do we have all the answers. Above all else, I hope that you can all learn to work together for freedom, instead of fighting each other insisting that your version of it is the "right" one. After all, freedom is the ability for each of us to do as we please, as long as we hurt no one else.

With as much love as I can muster,
Trbo

TrboPolish

Not a real post, just some shameless self-promotion for my Facebook Page: TrboPolish (turbo Polish (like the country)). It's about nail polish. I love nail polish almost as much as I love eyeshadow and Hot Bald Guys.

https://www.facebook.com/pages/TrboPolish/253427118012899?sk=wall

It's still a work in progress and what I REALLY REALLY want is a male contributor. So, if you're a dude who paints his nails (or wants to start) or know a dude who paints his nails, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE get in touch with me.

One day, I will post about my obsession with Polish and the OCD behavior that goes along with it. Until then, visit the Facecrack page for swatches, tips and more!

How To Successfully Be A Redneck

I'm not sure why I chose this title... Because the more I think about it, the more I realize I actually kinda failed at being a redneck. See, you'd think being a redneck would be pretty simple since it doesn't involve money, fashion sense, basic hygiene or a firm grasp of the English language (or any other language for that matter) - perhaps these things were my downfall. I have come to the realization that it takes equal part skill and bad genetics to be a successful redneck and I am evidently seriously lacking in both.

The weather this weekend in da 'Burgh was immensely torrid and, because I a. don't have cooling system that is centrally located which distributes sweet relief throughout my entire home and b. didn't have a swimsuit that would be appropriate for a genteel young lady such as myself to wear in public, Awesome Boyfriend and I were stuck brainstorming ways to cool ourselves off in the midst of the Worst Heatwave EVER. Since I have children and quite frequently make use of their toys and gadgets for my own enjoyment, it seemed perfectly natural to use their inflatable water containment device for my own personal comfort. Unfortunately, by the time I got done blowing up the pool and filling it with water (which I forgot to turn off causing it to overflow and creating a small mudpit in the backyard) it began to storm and by the time ABF got there, I was in the midst of a hormonally induced psychotic meltdown, so while swimming in lightning seemed like a completely rational idea to me at the time, I was once again saved by the unending rational and non-impulsive mind of my male better half.

The next day however, proved to be equally as sweltering and hyperthermia inducing. Swimming (and I use that term lightly, only because water and semi-submerged bodies are involved, it was more like "lounging") in the kiddie pool commenced. We sat in the "pool", drank beer and watch Redheaded Bitch and Chinashop Bull (dogs, people... dogs - their names have been changed to protect their inherent canine right to privacy) make one another's acquaintance for the first time. This involved Bitch attempting to hump Bull from behind... When that didn't work, she went straight for the full facial. This seemed to be more gender appropriate and socially acceptable to Bull, and he allowed it. It was almost as good as watching a cockfight or horse race or some other illegal gambling activity involving animals. Just imagine a 47lbs Husky attempting to hump a 100lbs Rottweiler and getting away with it.

Now you  might be thinking that, so far, we are totally winning at being rednecks... You would be right, except that we were drinking craft beer instead of Old Milwaukee and we were sitting outside a 3 bedroom house with a basement instead of a doublewide on cinder blocks. There was also no trace of old tires, rusted out truckbed caps or half-naked filthy children running around the yard in saggy diapers nor was any country music being blared from a pickup truck with the doors left open to better hear the tunes. I even exchange my white-trashy, too-small-topped swimsuit which was showing more of my boobs than it was covering for a fancy number from Victoria's Secret (specifically designed for the mammarily "gifted") that had just come in the mail. Rednecks don't wear $100 swimsuits. Rednecks don't own anything that costs over $20, unless it's a shotgun and even those are usually passed down from their great great grandpa who was only somewhat affected by redneck genes yet still managed to put in his hours coal-mining or digging trenches or something that made him some sort of sustainable income.

We completed our adventure in backwoods hillbilly bliss by going to dinner at the Texas Roadhouse. What we lacked earlier in auditory resemblance to redneckedness we surely made up for in this place. "I lost my truck and my dawg and my pickup 'cause that woman done left me and now I gotta drown my sorrows in a pitcher of Coors in a bar with a sawdust floor" was blaring from what seemed like the very building itself. Delectable cuts of bovine were prominently displayed behind a glass (probably plexiglass or just plain old plastic) display case where you could choose your own dinner, peanut shells were strewn across the floor throughout the entire place (I think this may have been staged - you know, to make it look more redneck than it really was, cause there weren't any in the bathroom and surely rednecks would definitely eat peanuts in the shitter) and the drink specials were pitchers of cheap beer and different "sweet tea" flavor cordials mixed with things like Jack Daniels and Southern Comfort.

To add to this authentic Texas experience, we were seated directly next to a table full of Mexicans and our waiter seemed a little... "slow". Maybe he was just nervous to be in the presence of the extreme awesomeness of the Dynamic Duo... or maybe a little of both. When I asked about a drink on the menu, he told me that the people who just left his other table had 3 of them. I looked at him very seriously and told him that he should not have served them so much alcohol and then permitted them to drive home. He looked very nervous and stated, "Oh, haha, no, they had three altogether, each of them had one." How each of them ordering only one each demonstrated that said drinks were so fantastic was entirely beyond me, so he either really believed that I was someone from the Liquor Control Board or he was just not the sharpest tool in the shed. "A" for effort, sweetheart, "A" for effort.

Despite being a little slow, quite talkative and a bit socially awkward, he was a good waiter. That is why I chose to express my concerns to him about the rest of the "staff" there. It was beyond me how anyone working in redneck heaven could seemingly hate their job as much as most of the adolescent girls there... When it came time for someone to have a birthday (which invariably happens if you choose to dine at one of these mid-range franchise restaurants on a weekend), the saddle on wheels was rolled out, a little girl was lifted onto it by a reasonably enthusiastic young male member of the staff, an announcement was made and the birthday singing began. Sadly, the girls singing weren't even a micro-fraction as enthusiastic as the young man, otherwise, I would not have been torn between being completely embarrassed at the pathetic performance and fighting the urge to stand up and give that poor little girl the birthday song she deserved.

Not being paid minimum wage to do so, I successfully resisted the latter, but my righteous indignation at the former caused me to have a little chat with our waiter when he came over. I told him that the poor little girl sitting there should have been sung to with some gusto and he should tell those girls that work-ethic is very important in America, as is customer service, and that they should be ashamed of themselves for ruining that poor little girl's birthday. Now she'll probably grow up to be a welfare bum because they'd set a bad example and her crushed faith in humanity will probably cause her to become addicted to heroin (ok, I didn't tell him all this, but this was the point I was trying to get across to him). To my surprise, he came back and said he told the non-singing girls what I said. Awesome BF just kinda glared at me and was all "Great, now we're going to be eating spit". To which Waiter replied "Oh no, they'd never do that! They'd get fired if they did that!"... Evidently, though they tolerate staff that sings to small children less than half-assed, the Texas Roadhouse has a very strict "no spitting in customers' food policy" that is vigilantly monitored and promptly punished by termination. Good to know.

Gross People

Let's talk about gross people. When I say gross people, I don't mean fat, ugly, stinky, hairy people who eat their boogers and wear spandex (we'll talk about them later)... I mean couples who make you want to vomit in your drink because, when they are out in public, no one else seems to exist in their world but the two of them. They're all hand-holding, face-sucking, snooky-wookying, OMFG-would-you-two-get-a-fucking-room and it pisses me off. No, I'm not jealous, I just think if you're going to be all over each other and ignore everyone else and the fact that they are trying in vain to hold down their lunch in your presence, you should just stay home and have sex til you can't stand to look at each other any more.

Seriously, no one needs or wants to hear your "I love yoooou" "I love you moooorrrre" "I love you the mostessst" waste of oxygen dialog. We get it, you love each other... Get over it, move on and talk about something meaningful you fucking kitten licking unicorn humpers. You can't eat love... and while the both of you were sitting there drooling all over each other, I ate your $50 filet mignon that you were going to share. Fortunately for me, you didn't notice; even though the only thing either of you has eaten for the past week is each other's face.

And why is everything "ours"? Why do you speak as if the two of you are one entity? Yeah, yeah, I get the whole "two become one" blah blah bullshit, but seriously... "we had to pop a nasty zit on our back before we got here, sorry we're late" is not only completely disgusting, it's entirely inaccurate. It's not your collective back... He has a back and you have a back. ONE of your backs was infested with said zit and ONE of you popped it. For fuck's sake!

My favorite is "we're on our period"... Ummmm, last time I checked, men don't have uteri and cannot bleed from their nether regions once a month (well, technically, I guess they could, but far from being the normal course of things, I'd say that would be a pretty significant cause for concern). Besides all of that, any man who would even want to own something like that has quite evidently been pussy-whipped into a state of complete patheticness and is an utter humiliation to the entire male species.

That shit gets old... It was already old for everyone else the first time they saw you together, it'll be old for you two soon enough. It will go from "My darling pookie-poo" to "you god damn asshat motherfucker!!" in no time. We'd all appreciate if you'd just stay home and boink each other's brains out until you at least get to the just calling each other "babe" part and spare the rest of us your disgusting, vomit-inducing, brain curdling infatuation fest. We all know you're going to be having knock-down, drag-outs over the color of the curtains and how often you no longer have sex in a few weeks.

In an effort to avoid this with the object of my affection, I solemnly vow to boink his brains out on a semi-daily basis for the next year or so. You're welcome.