Puke Of Hurl
Puke, Puke, Puke of Hurl
Puke, Puke, Puke of Hurl
Puke, Puke, Puke of Hurl
Puke, Puke, Puke of Hurl
As I walk through this world
Nothing can stop the Puke of Hurl
And you, the trap you unfurled
And you can so hurt me, oh yes
TWO DAYS EARLIER
I love leftovers. There I was at the fast food restaurant picking up dinner when I had my aha moment. I’ll get extra deep fried things on purpose so I’ll have enough for leftovers in the future.
Eureka.
It would be something, a small thing, that I was actually looking forward to.
Meanwhile, deep in the Pacific Ocean, somewhere over the Great Pacific garbage patch, ominous dark swirling clouds began to form.
PRESENT DAY
It was almost lunch time. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was in a good mood. I was on the way to the kitchen to prep my lunch. The lunch I had been looking forward to for two whole days. There was a bounce in my step as I walked down the hall. I hummed a little song to myself. I paused in the living room and played a game of peek-a-boo with the cat.
In less than five minutes I would be dead.
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Crapples To Crapples
Untreated European apples with natural “browning.” See what a difference a little diphenylamine can make?
Ah, Europe. A place where they eat cigarettes like Halloween candy going out of style yet worry about every little nit when it comes to their food.
Viva dichotomy!
“Oui! Next week I may hack up a cancerous thing that used to be a lung but today I will live, dammit, live! The juices of life must be savored to the fullest! The one thing we must absolutely never allow is diphenylamine in our food, you damn foolishly greedy capitalistic yanks.”
I, for one, say thanks. Because, without the European Food Safety Authority banning this, that and the other thing, I wouldn’t be able to say things like: “Oh yeah? Well Kraft Macaroni & Cheese still contains two artificial dyes banned in Europe.” Chef Booyah la de Fuckin’ Dah!
Kraft Foods is an American food company that was owned by a tobacco company until recently when they jury rigged the corporate legalese by rebranding Philip Morris as Altria Inc. and allegedly, in 2007, successfully underwent a Siamese twins separation operation, at least theoretically on paper. That’s because Kraft wants you to know they care about what you put in your body. Kraft Kares ™.
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They Talk Among Us
I thought maybe I had shared this story before but the search function says otherwise. So here goes.
There I was, a young pre-guru lad, still in my sensitive formative years, sitting on grandma’s porch out on the Taker homestead. Aw, shucks, I may even have been chewing on some amber stalks of grain.
The neighbor came over and started talking to my grandma. I was just a youngin’ so I didn’t pay no mind to their adult conversation.
Until… suddenly, the neighbor just dropped the N-word!
I sucked in my breath. Holy shit, I thought, someone is in for it now. I got the hell out of Dodge to make way for the can of whoop ass I knew my grandma was about to open.
Except… that didn’t happened. Grandma didn’t use the word herself, but she as hell didn’t kick that fucker in the nards, either. In fact, she acted like nothing happened at all.
Although I was young, I’ve never forgotten that moment. It is still vivid in my mind. I learned an important lesson that day. I guess it’s hard to forget certain moments frozen in time like when you got your heart broke. It was all part of my Intro 101 to this planet, I guess.
Fast-forward to present day where I’m, obviously, a seasoned traveler and enlightened guru in this game called life. Shit like that no longer surprises me.
What the fuck? Cliven Bundy just said what? Double dribble? Come again? The owner of an NBA basketball team just said what?
I guess I’m not as enlightened as I thought. I still can be surprised.
And, like always, this got me to thinking…
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Our store is open and closed
Sometimes I like to relive the glory days of yesteryear. That boss. What a character! This post came up at random and gets another turn in the barrel because it never got any love and died too young. The posts that got completely ignored are very special to me. They are my children.
This is my Monday post, so how about another bitch-fest about work? Hell, yeah! That seems apropos.
Some things overheard in the office last week:
Skeweeeeeeeeennnnggghhhhhhhkkk! Plop-plop-plop!
Hint: That’s the sound of my boss hocking up loogies and them plopping them into the wastebasket under his desk. In other news, I stopped by Staples today, picked up a new wastebasket for under my desk and will never again touch another wastebasket besides mine. Ever.
See? If I had marked that item as out-of-stock I never would have talked them into that other product.
Said by my boss after cross-selling a customer on a product our web site has listed as “in stock.” Recently customers have become increasingly combative when us innocents answer the phone, check the shelves, and say things like, “Nope. We don’t seem to have any.”
What do you mean you don’t have any? Your web…
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Childhood Obesity: Who’s Fault is it?
I originally hit the dusty trail looking to reblog something about Cliven Bundy. Alas, I couldn’t find anything palatable. Then I found this very interesting article about Childhood Obesity. Lots of good information and common sense here.
As of November in 2013,
obesity is considered a disease
. It has become so widespread that many are calling it an epidemic, while a WebMD article by R. Morgan Griffin labeled the
“obesity epidemic ‘astronomical’”
. Over the past thirty years, obesity rates have gone from
15 percent to 30 percent
. Instead of doubling like adult rates have, Childhood obesity rates, on the other hand, decided to outperform their older counterpart by
tripling their rates
. Surely following in their parents footsteps, and then some.
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Small Apologies
Today’s premise: There’s no such thing as an apology. But first, let’s go shopping!
Who ever said that shopping for greeting cards can’t be fun?
Have you ever really thought about apologies? I mean like really hard? Like pausing Nirvana and putting down the smartphone and thinking? I tried it. And the only conclusion I could come up with is that there’s no such thing as an apology.
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Societal Nuts
The news is abuzz with a story about “swatting.”
What is swatting? I figured it had something to do with flies or, perhaps, it was a new street lingo euphemism for something disgusting (sexual) done in bed. I was wrong on both counts. Like everything important in life, Wikipedia provides illumination:
Swatting is the tricking of any emergency service (via such as a 9-1-1 dispatcher) into dispatching an emergency response based on the false report of an on-going critical incident.
Source: Wikipedia – Swatting
A particularly nasty version of swatting is when you hoax the police into sending a SWAT (Special Weapons And Tactics) response to the home of your sworn enemy and kicking in their door, possibly shooting them while they reach for their salad fork and generally ruining their day. This is the sort of thing kids consider to be trendy these days.
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Shouts from the Abyss 
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