Anybody got a beer?

I had a rough day yesterday.

First, we had a meeting with about 50 people representing 6 different "teams" all involved in the same project but with differing managers.

Next, our boss told the 8 of us that it was business casual. THREE DIFFERENT TIMES!

Finally, we show up to our meeting and find everyone but us in their most powerful power-suit.

To make matters worse, instead of owning up to it, our boss hurried to the gift shop in the hotel and bought a tie before yelling at us for not having suits on. He asked us to avoid his manager (as if she wouldn't track any of us down to say hello and notice we weren't in suits) and pulled me aside specifically to bitch about the pants I wore. It turns out I've worn these countless times to business casual meetings and have never had a problem, but when the boss feels embarrassed for his own fuckup I guess he'd rather throw me under the bus than take the heat.

To combat this bullshit strategy of his I sought out his boss and apologized for the "obvious miscommunication on what our team was to wear" since every one my bosses employees were wearing business casual clothing. I then explained how my manager actually wanted me/us to avoid her, as if that was possible, but how I wanted to let her know on behalf of us reps that we were embarrassed and sorry that we were given the wrong instructions.

I did it in a very diplomatic way (I'm one of her favorite reps) but made sure to include enough back story to pinpoint exactly who fucked up. She really appreciated it, which brought my anger levels towards my boss down from "Insane" to a more manageable level.

All of that is a long way of saying how much happier I am today.

No, not because the whole thing is behind me and it's a fresh new day.

Nope.

I'm happier because a country music tool got beaned right between the eyes with a beer can while
performing after a Nascar event.

Whenever something like this happens I feel that karma has shifted back in my direction.

And any time a beer is thrown at someone who requests it I'm reminded of one of my all-time favorite movies. And no, it's not just because I got my picture taken with the hot brunette while at the Playboy Mansion, though that helps.

It's not how far you go, it's how go you far.

Question

Just a simple question, but one that's been bothering me.

Gigantic forehead or receding hairline?



Nastia Liukin is possibly attractive and Bela Karolyi still sucks at speaking English after all these years.

That's really all the headway I made on a lazy Sunday evening.

Can't...Leave it...Alone...

It's a sickness.

Man drowns while swimming just days before he was to report to duty in THE NAVY!

My deepest sympathies to his family and friends, of course.

However...

You've got to be kidding me here, right? You can't publish a story like that and expect me to overlook it, can you freep.com? Do you not KWTFIA?

Far be it from me to point out the obvious here, but maybe he was more of an Army guy. I can't remember anything even remotely close to this epic fail since at least 1996 when NATO tried to strip me of my "Adonis" label, claiming reasons of "world peace."

Until a man dies crossing the street just days before his new job as a crossing guard, or a woman perishes in a house fire from unchanged detector batteries just weeks before a new gig as a smoke detector installer, then this guy will hold down the top spot on the Epic Fail list taped to my refrigerator.

FURTHER CAKE-RAPING RUMINATIONS

Couldn't help myself.

Nowhere else that comes to mind is it commonplace to force things upon people who generally don't even want to be there.

Johnny Sixpack doesn't want to sit through a birthday celebration for Nancy Lardass from Accounting, having to sing her a song and stand around talking about the goddamn weather with Carl TalksTooMuch eating German Fucking Chocolate cake off the tiniest plate you've ever seen with the world's crappiest plastic fork and nowhere to put a glass of anything to wash down the disgustingness as Harriet Horseface moves into position to tell you about her trip to fucking Yellowstone again but mostly to make you uncomfortable as your eyes are constantly drawn to the mustache on her upper lip that puts the Arab guy from IT's arm hair to shame but you can't escape because Kathy Cake-Raper is busy making rounds and ensuring everyone has enough cake and that the cake is gone and the cake is delicious and the piece is large enough and the masses know that Martha made it and she has copies of the fucking recipe and if she doesn't move the fuck along she might just wear the rest of that cake but you can't be the guy that leaves early and is labeled a party-pooper and subjected to intensified Cake-Rapings in the future as Olivia OfficeFunPatrol takes it upon herself to make it her mission that you have fun the next time and eat lots of fucking cake because who doesn't like cake and parties but you're the only one, I mean, doesn't anyone else want to punch anyone in the face here or is it just me, I mean CHRIST!

ABUSE

If it can happen to me it can happen to anyone.

I pride myself on many things. Like my ability to procrastinate, my many times confirmed Huge Junk, or my long dexterous fingers. (Hear that ladies?)

I also feel like I can blend in well and, if need be, blend myself right into obscurity. I thought I had the right mix going this past weekend. I was wrong.

My friends Ryan and Lisa were celebrating the birthday of their now two year old son. He's like a tiny human being already, and seems to be growing into his gigantic head quite nicely. I was worried there for a while.

His cousins were there, Zach at age 7 and Ash (Ashley, Ashlynn, or something) at age 4. Ryan introduced me to them both while they shot hoops in the driveway using one of those 4 foot tall kid hoops. I would totally dominate Zach later while he was trying to dunk. NOT ON (FAKE) UNCLE BRACELET'S WATCH! Gotta learn about losing early, I always say while beating little kids at games.

Anyhow, Ash and I shook hands and not five minutes later she pointed at me and asked who I was. I said, "I'm Bob, nice to meet you."

God obviously hates this little boy as he brought rain down off and (mostly) on, causing the party to retreat indoors on multiple occasions. We finally settled inside for good, using the close quarters to do presents. I bought the little guy a Michael Jordan track suit. He's going to look pimp.

It was about his time that Ash kept wandering over to where I was sitting, which happened to be next to her dad. Each time she walked by I'd say, "Hi, I'm Bob." and she'd say "Hi, bob!" back.

I was getting a kick out of it, and really, if hanging with kids and using their awe and lack of understanding about the world as comedy fodder isn't what adults are supposed to be doing then I don't wanna be an adult. Hmph.

So he gets all of his presents, none of them holding a candle to my offering.

Nerf balls? Seriously?
Non-ironic t-shirt? Honestly?

How long has it been since you people cashed it in?

The birthday song is belted and the birthday boy finally musters a successful attempt at blowing out the candle on his cake.

IT'S CAKE RAPE TIME!

For those of you unaware of what Cake Rape is, let me fill you in.

At every party that involves cake, someone inevitably decides that everyone should have a piece of cake. No exceptions. He or she becomes the Cake Rapist, pushing slices of unwanted cake on you. "I don't like cake" you may say, but it doesn't matter. "C'mon! Everyone likes cake!" they reply.

It's just a small piece...
No thanks.
C'mon just have a piece, it's really good. Kathy made it.
Nah, I don't really like cake all that much.
Who doesn't like cake?
Um, me. I don't like cake.
Don't be foolish. Here have some cake.

And just like that you've been Cake Raped.

I wandered into the kitchen and grabbed a drink. I figured if I stayed away from the table long enough to let everyone get served it might be easier to stand firm against whoever decided to Cake Rape me.

Who was it going to be, I pondered.

Was it going to be Ryan's wife, Lisa? She's technically the host, I thought. No, I decided. Too concerned with the little guy and making sure everything was kept somewhat clean and efficient.

Ryan's mom? No way. She knows me way too well. Hell, she makes me a Bob kaBob when I eat at her place, consisting of a bamboo stick full of nothing but delicious meat products. No way she would Cake Rape me. She knows better.

Not Lisa's cousin, father, sister or brother-in-law, I figured. None of them seemed to eager to get in the mix. They were just along for the ride.

No, it had to be Lisa's mom, I thought. Motherly, and from the era where you brought cake to the neighbor when they moved in. Surely she'd try to Cake Rape me and I was counting on my relative anonymity to get me through. She knows me, and has met me on numerous occasions, but I'm still kind of the foreign guy at the party.

In the end I was standing patiently in the kitchen when I hear Ash ask where I am and Ryan reply, "He's in the kitchen, why don't you go get him."

Four year old Ash totally Cake Raped me.

I had to sit next to her and eat while she ate. Later she'd get a present for herself (stickers) and when asked if she'd like to open them, she instead immediately tracked me down to hand them over as she said, "Hi Bob!"

I'd been Cake Raped and claimed by a four year old girl. Probably her first crush.

STILL GOT IT!

Everything was pretty funny as she'd grab my hand and lead me around the party, instructing me where to sit. That is until she put down her plate of cake she'd been randomly working on, stood up and grabbed my hand, and said...

"I gotta go poop."

NOT SAFE FOR WORK

I couldn't not post this video.

This is Gilbert Godfried at Bob Saget's roast.

It is VERY MUCH NOT SAFE FOR WORK.

Great fucking joke.

Television

I've now spent over 5 weeks with no television.

Not that I don't have a tv, I have access to two at my new place. A place I'm staying in while a friend and his wife are overseas for a year or two. I didn't really bring much of my stuff. I figured I'd live like a nomad, cut down on expenses for awhile, and maybe be able to finally funnel proper funding into my masturbatory routine.

So far so good.

I haven't missed television that much, but then again it's just been baseball and normal television. ESPN has gotten progressively more difficult to watch as they morph into some sort of MTV-People Magazine hybrid. Reality television, while sometimes entertaining, is the most frustratingly produced programming ever. Enough with the stupid fucking lighting and goddamn dramatic pauses every ten seconds. JUST TELL US THE FUCKING ANSWER!!!

Anyways, I've got access to television but declined to set up cable while I'm here. The tv upstairs is a weird brand that my buddy got for free through work. It was like, the original plasma television. I swear it has gotta be from another planet because none of the knobs or hookups are normal. The remote has 6 buttons on it, total. So that one isn't going to be hooked up to any sort of antenna for locals.

The one downstairs is pretty badass, a 50 inch new plasma, but I think I broke the antenna because it doesn't want to pick up anything but a really bad ABC feed. Well, either it's broken or I'm such a dumbass that I'm hooking up the single wire all wrong. It's probably the latter.

At any rate, I haven't watched tv for close to two months now. It's been interesting.

I've had Sirius playing on my computer most of the time. I listen to 43 Backspin for old school hip-hop. I listen to Pure Jazz a lot now, which is great for when I'm cooking, reading, or doing work on the company laptop. I occasionally listen to one of the comedy stations but it seems that every time I log in for that it's during someone's show where a bunch of unfunny people sit around and talk instead of playing any clips. I can't fucking stand that, and turn it to something else almost as fast as I turn when I hear a redneck comic come on. In other words, fast as shit.

I've read a bunch of books, unfortunately nothing beyond thrillers. I've got a few unfinished books I may try to read again, namely The God Delusion and The End of Faith. I also have one about some random mobster sitting around here somewhere. Can't get enough of the Lee Child, Vince Flynn, David Baldacci books though and those types of books dominate my time.

Saw a great book the other day, which I think would be a great gift to anyone with a sense of humor. Can't remember the name, but it's a book of pictures drawn by bigfoot with commentary by bigfoot. Kind of like his diary. It's hilarious stuff, on par with the original Letter's From a Nut.

So with no television I've only had a couple times where I've wished I could have been watching. Mornings to catch up on sporting results, is one time, though I can and do find most everything online. I miss highlights though. I miss Top Gear, a truly entertaining show on the BBC.

Honestly, that's really been about it.

Now though, we've got the start of the NFL with exhibition games getting under way. I really want to be watching as my favorite team, the Detroit Lions, set my expectations high before collapsing during the season somehow. I must see it.

Not sure how I'm going to do it, but it'll get done. I can't miss it. Then college football starts soon after and I'll need to be catching that, both for wagering and enjoyment purposes. Fictional wagers, of course.

I've been playing more golf and slightly more soccer. Got our championship game this weekend where I plan on scoring multiple times on whatever foreign team we end up playing.

Pray for two things this evening, if you'd like to help me out. Pray that I can manage to rig my television to catch the Lions, and also that Kitna suffers a season ending injury while Matt Millen simultaneously gets fired. Neither is happening, but you can still pray. I swear to god these two fucking douchebags are going to be here forever. We'll be the first team playing a 60 year old at quarterback and stringing together 20 consecutive losing seasons without anyone getting fired.