The goose? Appartantly getting fat.
I think I alienated some of you with my last two heiney-centric posts, so this time I am giving you a no-ass guarantee. At no time in this post will I mention farts, shitting, or my ass.
I mean after now.
Okay. 100% ass free starting... NOW.
So that jolly bastard Santa has sent yours truly to Chicago today becuae apparantly, he doesn't ever want me to see my wife again. That's just how Santa rolls. He delights in other's misery. It's something that he has managed to keep out of all the carols and TV specials, but he's just a sick dude what likes to split people up.
Anyway, that's life as one of Santa's lil' helpers. I'm here in the windy city (and yes, it's windy) to visit one of our vendors and lear how to build this giant-ass Santa set they built for us. Then I get to wing back home this weekend, kiss my wife, and then head BACK to Chicago to teach the rest of Santa's crew how to build the thing. Then it's Jacksonville, then Long Island, then Texas, Virgina and who knows where else. When the big man points his chubby-ass fingers, you don't sit around humming "The First Noel," you GO.
I suppose this is my long-winded (what else is new?) way of saying that I'm going to be in and out for the next two months, and I'll blog when I can. Because you people? IMPORTANT to me. Mainly because every comment I get serves to prop up my already bloated ego, but still... IMPORTANT.
And let me just tell you while we're on the subject of road-blogging, that this hotel-room-TV internet is for the birds. No, wait. I don't think the birds deserve to have this geriatric internet-esque experience thrust apon them. I mean, aside from crapping all over my car, what did the birds ever do to me?
Come to think of it, fuck those birds. You should see the job they did to my poor car. Okay, they DO deserve this limp internet thing.
Typing on this thing is like dictating to an 85 year old stroke victim who is writing with a pencil taped to her forehead. Everything I type takes 5 minutes to show up on the screen. See how I suffer for you people? This is definately not worth the 49.95 they're charging me.
Did you hear that? That was the sound of Sally having a stroke. I'm just kidding about the 49.95! Sally has this pulsatng bulge in her forhead that is directly linked to our credit card ballance. It's flat-out creepy.
It's funny sometimes how writing this blog takes me in strange directions. I sat down tonight with the full intention of telling you about the worst restaurant in the entire world, which used to be in Baltimore, and which I was pretty sure was some sort of mob front. That was what I had wanted to write about, but look where we wound up. You got another 19 paragraphs of me bitching instead.
But hey, not one word about my ass! I'm all about customer satisfaction!
As a side note to the Baltimore-blogger community, I'm not going to make it to the Katrina-relief happy hour on account of my affore-mentioned secret mission for the dude in the red suit. I've instructed Sally to spend twice as much money to make up for my absence. Someone please be a dear and carry her home, will you?
I mean after now.
Okay. 100% ass free starting... NOW.
So that jolly bastard Santa has sent yours truly to Chicago today becuae apparantly, he doesn't ever want me to see my wife again. That's just how Santa rolls. He delights in other's misery. It's something that he has managed to keep out of all the carols and TV specials, but he's just a sick dude what likes to split people up.
Anyway, that's life as one of Santa's lil' helpers. I'm here in the windy city (and yes, it's windy) to visit one of our vendors and lear how to build this giant-ass Santa set they built for us. Then I get to wing back home this weekend, kiss my wife, and then head BACK to Chicago to teach the rest of Santa's crew how to build the thing. Then it's Jacksonville, then Long Island, then Texas, Virgina and who knows where else. When the big man points his chubby-ass fingers, you don't sit around humming "The First Noel," you GO.
I suppose this is my long-winded (what else is new?) way of saying that I'm going to be in and out for the next two months, and I'll blog when I can. Because you people? IMPORTANT to me. Mainly because every comment I get serves to prop up my already bloated ego, but still... IMPORTANT.
And let me just tell you while we're on the subject of road-blogging, that this hotel-room-TV internet is for the birds. No, wait. I don't think the birds deserve to have this geriatric internet-esque experience thrust apon them. I mean, aside from crapping all over my car, what did the birds ever do to me?
Come to think of it, fuck those birds. You should see the job they did to my poor car. Okay, they DO deserve this limp internet thing.
Typing on this thing is like dictating to an 85 year old stroke victim who is writing with a pencil taped to her forehead. Everything I type takes 5 minutes to show up on the screen. See how I suffer for you people? This is definately not worth the 49.95 they're charging me.
Did you hear that? That was the sound of Sally having a stroke. I'm just kidding about the 49.95! Sally has this pulsatng bulge in her forhead that is directly linked to our credit card ballance. It's flat-out creepy.
It's funny sometimes how writing this blog takes me in strange directions. I sat down tonight with the full intention of telling you about the worst restaurant in the entire world, which used to be in Baltimore, and which I was pretty sure was some sort of mob front. That was what I had wanted to write about, but look where we wound up. You got another 19 paragraphs of me bitching instead.
But hey, not one word about my ass! I'm all about customer satisfaction!
As a side note to the Baltimore-blogger community, I'm not going to make it to the Katrina-relief happy hour on account of my affore-mentioned secret mission for the dude in the red suit. I've instructed Sally to spend twice as much money to make up for my absence. Someone please be a dear and carry her home, will you?
posted by CommonWombat at 12:46 AM
11 Comments:
We'll make sure she makes it home safe and sound. We'll miss you, and we will quaff a coke in your stead.
That said, nice to see that your post had no reference of your posterior.
JJT stole my comment, which was to be, (re: getting Sal home)
"we're on it."
Now when are we going to be able to finsih our last conversation?
You should always be specific when asking that someone take you wif home: You should make it clear you want her taken to YOUR home. Just a tip.
I mean "wife," damnit. But wif, too.
Okay, I mean "your wife home," not "you wif home."
This is the last time I do heroin right before reading blogs. I mean it.
Wow,
That fat man has you by the balls and you're sending your wife home with strangers!! ;-P
So sorry you're stuck with crappy internet connections.
About your hinder-regions, I haven't laughed that hard in a while. Thanks for sharing. I wish I had that dart to throw "oh yeah...well you..."
I'm sorry your job has you travelling so much. I don't think I'd be a big fan of Christmas if I had your job. However, you know that you must have a real sense of pride when you see the final product/creation.
have fun!
tell santa that even though i'm half jewish i expect a full load of presents this year.
i've been so good that i can pretty much guarantee i will stuffing firecrackers into the turkey on christmas morning. once the presents are in sight, all bets are off.
I met Sally - She's so nice. I hope when you come back, I get to meet you too.
While you're out in chi-town you should see if you can meet up with another baltimore blogger who is out there now, virginia. www.virginiaanne.com
I'm glad to see that someone else is sidelining their blogging duty. :)
I'd like to write something funny now... but instead I would like to tell you that I am so touched by how you always speak so affectionately about your wife. Positive soul pervasion.
...and, by the way, you broke your promise... you've become immuned to you own potty-talk. The birds. You just couldn't leave out that they left you little treasures all over your car. :)
Have a good time in Chicago. I'll miss you something fierce.
Chicago is called the "windy city" not for its lake effect wind but for its politics. Really. I live nearby and just HAD to clear that up, I'm sure you understand. Funny stuff, thanks for the laughs.
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