T-to-the-A

Posts Tagged ‘Gross’

Junk-Food-Saturday

In The Daily Drool on May 16, 2010 at 10:59 am

Ugh.

UUUUUGGGHHH.

Yesterday was a gastro-intestinal nightmare, the lazy man/woman’s amigo, the busy-bee’s bonus – JUNK-FOOD was in OVERLOAD.

I could revel you with everything I ate but you might get sick on your computer monitor.  Oh, who am I kidding.  Of course I’m going to post it here.  Why else would I bother talking about it?

A.M. – Frosted Mini-wheats and OJ.  Yumm.  And still healthy… ish!

P.M. – Coming home from Census taking, stomach screaming, Must. Stop. Get. Del Taco.  1 Macho Taco and a Coke later = happy belly!

(Then the snacking commenced)  Including but not limited to:

Grody-gross Funyuns (sometimes it feels good to be bad) Klondike Bar (What would you doo-OO-oo…) one slice Kraft Cheese, more crunchy onion flavored crispiness, one donut dunked in milk.

All capped off by DINNER:  One Arby’s junior sandwich and a potato patty (just $2 from the dollar menu, dudes)  and a  SLURPEE the size of Connecticut at the movie theater.

Woof.  How’s your tummy?

The crazy news?  I feel totally fine.

But I don’t think I need to do it again any time soon.  🙂

The Bad Kitty Blues

In The Daily Drool on May 15, 2010 at 1:18 pm

My parents and I are currently living with five cats… that’s two more cats than humans.

It’s risky business.

But this morning we discovered that their little boy cat, Ceasar, has been spraying his mark all over the house for quite some time (pre-me +my 2 kitties moving in) and I had the indelible pleasure of helping scrub away at cat urine with bleach, a toothbrush, and some tough rubber gloves.

I think my nostrils are permanently singed…

You see, my parents have cement flooring (it looks like lovely stone though, I had no idea you could do this with concrete) It at least makes for easier clean up; just pour on the bleach and watch it bubble.  YES.  Cat urine + bleach = a foaming, toxic mess that is sure to bring tears to your eyes.  I had no idea, but I almost lost my senses… seriously, I can’t smell anything right now.  They could probably use the combo to create weapons of mass disruption.  Forget smoke bomb, how about a Urine Bomb.  Blech!

Anyway, after all the hidden potty-places were discovered and scoured, I found that I had quite lost any and all respect I once had for Sir Ceasar… and I just hope and pray that my cats aren’t influenced by his bad boy behavior.

Additionally, my parents are concerned that they may have to give him up if he doesn’t stop doing it… any tips on how to nip this problem?

Census Porn

In The Daily Drool on May 5, 2010 at 4:32 pm

Look, I’m all about the illusion of love-at-first-sight… it’s what so many good stories are made of.  But I don’t especially believe in it.  Sorry, all you effing insane crazy romantics, but it’s kind of a lot of caca (bullshit sounds better) that we writers fry up and dress in daisies to appease your hunger pains… you dig?

So, imagine my disgust at the little sex vulture in our training class:

DAY 1- Let’s call him “Dude” – Dude is annoying: lots to say, very little of it of any quality.  Repeat, ANNOYING.  Day 1 he chats it up with the cougar in the back.  I have fantasies of turning around and sealing their lips shut with my laser-eyes.  Instead, I stare straight ahead and try not to scream.

DAY 2- Wouldn’t you know it if Dude doesn’t plop his ass right down next to me?  In the front row?  Suffice to say I was NOT surprised when he got up and relocated at the break – I’m sure my “I find you repulsive” vibes were messing up his cool-cat bubble… He meandered over to another lady of chatting and giggling style.  I enjoyed the empty space.

DAY 3-  Dude and Chatty McGee spend the entire day canoodling over their census training booklets.  Dude spends the entire morning with his arm draped around the back of her chair while she reads off his manual and spends the morning rubbing his thigh (According to Poor Lovely Person Stuck Sitting Behind Them All Day)  PLPSSBTAD also informs me that from her vantage point said hand alternated between mid and high/upper thigh, and that they also “snuck” smooches in to their training/groping/grossing-the-rest-of-us-out session.

DAY 4- I’m forcasting a violent break-up in which she throws her government documents at him, delivering massive papercuts, and equates his junk to our standard issue No. 2 pencils.  Either that or they’re going to make a baby right there on the floor.  (gag)

Let me just say this – after 3 days of official government training, I’m duly impressed with my own ability to stomach sleaze.  I mean, these are adults… adults who apparently never matriculated beyond the gland stage.

I’ll just say it again… GAG.