Archive for January, 2008

Gotta dance?

January 26, 2008

     I am suffering from Conga madness. No matter what I’m doing or where I am, I have to do the Conga. I blame all those Conga clubs you see everywhere (oddly enough, they are always next to a Starbucks). When I’m at work, I have to Conga! On the bus, I have to Conga! In  the middle of, er , um, well I have to Conga then to (hmmm, that might be good thing). Anyway, you have never known embarrassment until you have started a Conga line at a funeral service (I actually got kicked by a priest). So, beware my friends and watch out for that dangerous dance (and the Bunny Hug too).

Hold the anchovies, please.

January 19, 2008

     The Devil appeared before me today and offered $13.95 for my immortal soul. I told the horned one, “Get lost you you cheap bastard!” After he left, I wondered how he thought he would get my soul for the price of pepperoni and mushroom pizza. Now I’m hungry. Damn, that Devil is good.

Music has charms to soothe the savage breast.

January 12, 2008

     Have you ever gotten a song in your head…My love must be a kind of blind love…but the problem is you only remember the barest fragment…I can’t see anyone but you…I heard a tiny bit of this old 50’s song by The Flamingos in a movie I was watching…Are the stars out tonight…Afterwards, I just kept hearing that bit over and over…I don’t know if it’s cloudy or bright…Just to keep from going nuts, I got the lyrics to the entire song from a website…I only have eyes for you dear…but that didn’t help…The moon may be high…because I was not sure how the whole song sounded when sang…But I can’t see a thing in the sky…My own attempts at singing it only got funny looks from people I encountered…I only have eyes for you…on the bus…I don’t know if we’re in a garden…at work…Or on a crowded avenue…or in the men’s room…You are here and so am I…Take my advice, don’t ever sing a love song there…Maybe millions of people go by…Anyway, now I know the doo wop song by heart…But they all disappear from view…Just wish the bus driver would stop giving me funny looks…And I only have eyes for you.

A factual statement.

January 11, 2008

     My nickname is not ‘Bunny’.

Four (fooled you).

January 10, 2008

     I had reluctantly come to the conclusion that it was necessary to deactivate my killer robot, Chester. He sensed what I was doing and told me “goodbye, daddy” as the shutdown process began. It was a hard thing to do and I decided then and there to do something that would benefit man instead. I would create the perfect woman. Should be able to find all the necessary parts at Radio Shack. 

Two.

January 9, 2008

     The activation process was a success, but Chester began to display signs of willfulness. After I asked him to pick up his things, he called me “Herr Doktor Frankenstein”. That hurt. Then when I refused to let him borrow the car, he stormed out of the house. Later, in a fit, Chester leveled Pacoima. I hope no one will miss it.

One.

January 7, 2008

     Just putting the finishing touches on my killer robot. I think I will call him Chester. This will surely land me on the cover of Mad Scientist Monthly. 

With the thanks of a grateful nation.

January 5, 2008

     I work for a global retailer that has a name that begins with W and ends with T, with a squiggly in the middle. There are nasty rumors about the company such as: all associates begin each workday with a Death to Target chant; that the company founder, Sam Walton (er, I mean Bill Smith), is preserved Lenin-like in a glass coffin within a ornate mausoleum on the grounds of the company headquarters in Arkansas; that the unofficial corporate logo is a giant company hand gripping a screaming customer by the balls, with the words Resistance is Futile underneath. All lies I tell you. I once heard a fellow refer to a job similar to mine at another store as being “something any moron could do”. Ah, job satisfaction, you can’t beat it. As you might have guessed I am not a international spy. Although, I do my fair share of bed-hopping and martini drinking. I am also not a poseur with a ponytail, an aficionado of samba music or a guy that plays the harmonica. What I do keeps the American public (mostly the gravitationally challenged) happy and for that I am thankful. God bless and I will check in from time to time. Death to Target (oops). 

A boy needs a hobby.

January 4, 2008

     Gone fishin’…for a mermaid.