Sunday, November 29, 2009

The Rise and Fall of Dr. Massive

Hello folks!!!! D to the rOcK hasn't posted to ya'll in quite some time. So I return with a load of bs to entertain you with....(I submit that everyone is closing this browser window right now because I've already told you that it's gonna be bull-esque shit.) In my traditional fashion I will say FUCK IT...I'm gonna Have another FuCkin' SIP...and continue...

Dr. Massive was a very square man who lost sight of the monster he wanted to create. Unfortunately this hero of ours got bogged down in wires and buttons and technicalities that he lost focus of the beast that he so eagerly wanted to bring to life. Many days and nights went by as he slumped in the corner of his laboratory, pleasuring himself and eating Wild Bill beef jerky chew. The days grew dark and dreary, and he began to sincerely belive that his dream could never come to fruition. Then, like a rainbow in the dark (thank you Ronnie James Dio) a creature came to him out of the darkness. We soon learn that this entity is an angel from above...bringing with it a pot full of pasta fagilio. The angel speaks to Dr. Massive..."You must stop gratifying yourself in the sense of masturbatory folley and try my divine pasta fagilio." In complete awe and exhaustion, mainly because of the nonstop extraction of his own loin secretion that day, our good Doctor gave in to this italiano angels request. He reached for the divine bowl of pasta-based food. The spoon gave off a sparkle as he lifted it from thine bowl, and a quick breeze of wind touched the room as he raised the spoon to his lips....

What came upon the good Doctor was inexplainable. A rise of absolute clarity and vision fucked his soul...and it fucked said soul HARD! The pasta-bearing angel said no words, for it knew that its deed was done. A bellowing wind and a thick fog penetrated the air, and in a few brief moments the angel was gone. All that was left...the good Doctor, and that blessed spoon.

EUREKA!!!!!!! shrieked our hero! The spoon fell to the floor. His pants were pulled up to his waist. The 3/4's empty bottle of moisturizer was crushed beneath his new found footing. The good doctor rediscovered his path. The clouds were lifted from his gaze, and a new dawn was before him...he murmered the subtle yet potent phrase..."I am that which I will bring life to."

...And so, the true beast was born. Until next time ladies and gentlemen......

Thursday, November 12, 2009

Who has two thumbs...

...and just quit his stressful, depressing job in the middle of the
worst economic downturn since 1929?

This guy.

(You see, I'm now pointing my thumbs at myself. That's what the joke

Monday, November 9, 2009

Brief update, to be followed by much more

The other day I was at work when one of the new supervisors told me I was needed in the bathroom. "Wonderful," I said into the radio, in my badass imagination. "Does a customer want to defecate into my open mouth? Or does the management?"

It turns out that the little boys' room was out of paper towels and that one of the stalls "wasn't working." My job was to replace the paper towels and discover how, exactly, a small room designed for shitting in can "not work."

First, I found out that the stall was "not working" because someone had locked it from the inside and then somehow left--presumably by crawling under the door. I also discovered that I had no idea how to open the paper towel dispenser. This left me posting an "out of order" sign on the door and standing outside the bathroom with a roll of paper towels in my hand.

A young girl approaches me. She needed help finding something, and decided to ask me the following question: "Do you work for the books, or do you just work for the toilets?"

Let me just restate this. I work at a job in which a situation arose that prompted a small child--the universal harbingers of innocent truth-telling--to ask me if I worked for the toilets. A child asked me if I labor on behalf of, and in service of, inanimate objects that function only as poo receptacles. Apparently, in this little girl's eyes, the shitters are, collectively, my boss.

And my response? I merely sighed and told her that I work for both the books and the toilets, and that I couldn't help her at that moment. I sent her off to find someone else.

Anyway, I have a couple posts in the Tubes. The next one is a long one, several weeks in the making: The Food Monster Final Tour. That's right, more of my friend committing dangerous acts of shameless gluttony for our amusement! Take that, TV ads of starving, near-homeless brown children!