I will not bore you with tales of delirious revelry and joy, so instead of discussing my vacation last week, I will tell you about my first day back at work. I returned to work somewhat rested and only mildly cranky, which is really saying something. Without people and events to complain about and whiskey to drink away my pain, my days had been surprisingly open and I had accomplished a great deal, and grown a little as a person. This is what vacations are supposed to do, but the irony is that no one experiences these effects until after they’ve reached adulthood. This entirely defeats the purpose because everyone knows that grown ups are too Set in Their Ways to change, and consequently, vacations are both wasted on the young and old alike, but for opposite reasons. keep reading »

Recently, a rumor has been spreading that before I began my current job, I was a merchant marine. Between cussing like a sailor, my grizzled and half-crazy glare, and the smell of sea salt on my person, (new shampoo from Lush), I’m embracing this rumor and running with it. Check out some of these vintage posters:

They so accurately reflect my work ethic. I plan on peppering these slogans into my work emails.

Websites with right-clicking disabled are obnoxious, unprofessional, and stupid. I’m not trying to steal your bullshit images, you insane alley vagrant. I’m just trying to open a link on your site in a new window so that I don’t accidentally close out of it. Maybe I should rephrase that, you stagnant oozing fuck puppet: I’m trying to stay on your website longer, and view more of it more efficiently. Stop penalizing me for being a good web visitor, you drooling glass-eyed sour-milk-breathed cunt weasel.