The Library Sequence - Part 1
- Waiting by the steps, the brown brick facade of the Park Slope library looms distantly in the immediate foreground. The dark grey sky leaks gently. Then the rain starts pelting me, ferociously drenching my clothes and my body. Lightning cracks the sullen morning and I know that this is the perfect setting for a royal rumble, or perhaps a survivor series. I decide to wait inside.
For nearly just a few days, Oasis the cat has been ripping me a new one on his stupid blog. I’ve come here to gain some sort of mutual understanding with him in which he sees everything my way. I’ll choke that chicken until he gives me his username and password so that I can delete his website.
Crash. Bang. Thunder.
I walk up the drippy granite stoop, open the hefty black iron doors, and enter the building. Covered in wetness, I find a seat at a study table, grab a Men’s Health from the magazine rack and scan with my eyes beyond the magazine for signs of the doomed fleabag. Nothing.
“So that’s how you get terriffic abs in just three weeks,” I say after reading an impressive article on 6-packs. I’ve been doing it all wrong. I flip the pages, drops from my wet hair hit them. “Ohh..what’s this? Secrets to the best sex ever? Huh. I never thought of thrusting...thanks Men's Health.”
So, I’m sitting approximately 5 meters away from the public internet terminals. I figure it’s just a matter of moments before Oasis shows up. I’ve noticed that it’s usually around one or so in the afternoon when he types in his Catster diary, I can only assume it takes eons to write them because he lacks the human digits optimal for a Qwerty keyboard. The whole process is still sort of unclear to me.
I pick up a GQ from the shelves to help pass the time like a painful stool. "Oh, so these are the new fall fashions...corduroy, huh?" I mumble to myself as the storm outside seems to be picking up.
And then, something happens.
A reddish brown streak races across the floor. Swoosh.
Was that a rat? Was that Oasis? WTF??
Again. Swoosh. The streak is so fast. My eyes couldn't even register what it is.
Ker-aack. Baanng. This thunder feels particularly close. I look up at the fluorescent lights as the power in the library flickers.
"AAAaaaahhh!" I scream. A librarian whispers back, "SSShhhhhhh!" My shins are suddenly in searing pain. "God bless America, this hurts!" I look down at my legs and see the bottoms of my pleated khakis turning crimson, blood sopping through my pants.
Something just cut me. Bad.
Positively Opposite Review - NBC's The Biggest Loser!
- The heaviest hitter to gobble up my attention span this fall is NBC’s The Biggest Loser! There’s so much to love! The Biggest Loser will never be a colossal failure like The Restaurant 2, Last Comic Standing, or Average Joe: Adam Returns, because this show has a whole lot of a major key ingredient that America hungers for on TV: Unsightly Blubber!
NBC clearly knows what the people want. After 10 years of force-feeding Friends to us, the network executives are meeting us at the dinner table. Times have changed since several months ago, man. A show about beautiful and slender New Yorkers might have been a ratings jackpot THEN, but it’s so obvious the public demands morbidly obese hilljacks with man-titties NOW. It appeals to me in so many ways!
Hey, hey, hey! If you’re thinking that this show is just exploiting helpless fatties, you are so hugely wrong! The fatty who stops being a fatty the most wins 250,000 dollars! That’s almost 90,000 bags of Cheetos! Or a down payment on a Ranch Dressing factory!
Here’s how it works--12 bloated slags are divided into two teams! On the one team: Shamu, Jabba, Boss Hogg, Ms. Piggy, Big Bertha, and a former Richard Simmons video backup dancer named Cindy. On team two: Bessie, the guy who was airlifted out of his home on that episode of Jerry Springer, a dude from the cover of The Weekly World News, Free Willy, and King Hippo! These enormous humans then compete in physical fitness contests against each other like performing a sit up or doing arm twirlies. Inspiring!
At the end of each episode, America’s Sweetheart and host of the show, Caroline Rhea, chooses the least sweatiest and says the hottest new catchphrase, “You’re a fat fuck!” Then the blimps lumber slowly back to their homes made of butter and cry about how they’ll never have a chance to be skinny without national television. Whoo!
Imagine you are eating chocolate cake and then you take the sharp fork and start stabbing yourself in the gut with it. That is something I would never do while watching The Biggest Loser!! This show is so much better than self inflicted flatware wounds! Seeing these people go from fat to marginally less fat shows how the human spirit can sit on any chair and totally break it. On a scale of 1 to 10 McGriddles, I give it 10!!! Phattest. Show. Ever!!!
Don’t have time to watch it now? Wait for the whole season on special edition DVD with a 2.35:1 aspect ratio!! Widescreen baby!
Other Positively Opposite Reviews
Father of the Pride!
Little Black Book world premiere!
- Before I begin my new potentially awkward job at the Burning Bridges Greeting Card Factory, I have a little unfinished business with a certain retarded cat named Oasis. It’s easy to blame acid reflux or a drummer’s finger or a shot of cortisone administered too late by Wayne Newton’s doctor on one’s gaffes, but the blame to MY problems rests solely on the head of Oasis. He’s turned me into the laughing stock of the internet! Last week, he gets on Catster and all of a sudden he thinks he’s like a Supreme Court justice doing bad standup--all making opinions and telling oral sex jokes in his Catster diary. I ain’t having it.
I’ve decided to go find Oasis where he uses his computer--the Park Slope branch of the Brooklyn Public Library--and confront him. I’ve got quite a few “questions” for him, if you know what I mean. If you don’t know what I mean, the questions I have in mind are, “You got a deathwish?” and “How would you like being cut, son?” I’ll slay him right in the middle of the large print Spanish books section if he even tries to step. I have a few questions for the library staff too, like, "Why do you let cats in to use the computers??" Tomorrow: shit goes down.
I also have some overdue books to return.
Say Something Nice To... Ashlee Simpson!
Each and every one of you should be ashamed! If you were in the same situation as Ashlee Simpson on SNL, you know darned well you'd dance an Irish jig and flee tearfully from the stage. There's too many haters on the internet and frankly, I refuse to pander to an audience that finds joy in the destruction of a child. Can we leave all the vitriol behind? Let's see if we can each say something nice to her. I'll start it off with some positive messages for poor Ash.
--Ashlee, your nose is not that big. There are many rockstars with bigger ones like Dee Snyder & Geddy Lee.
--No matter what you do, Jersey still loves you.
--You'll always be known as the smart Simpson sister.
--Your website is fun to read now.
--Had it been a wardrobe malfunction instead of a guide track malfunction, your silver bejeweled nipples might have been exposed.
--Anyone who writes horrible things about you now was probably never your fan in the first place.
--When people go to your website and write on your message board that you are a "stupid fraudulent whore," take it with a grain of salt. They're just jealous.
--Milli Vanilli were never classically trained in hoe-down dancing like you. Their only memorable dance move was the flying chest bump.
--Nearly 50 percent of Milli Vanilli remains alive after their career ending lip synching mishap. The glass is half full!
Say something nice!
The Interview - The Finale
- “All right. I’ve come to a decision,” I blurted while taking the final drag from the can of Slice. “About whether of not I will take this admin job at Burning Bridges, ” I added.
Bobo leaned across the desk and raised his right eyebrow slightly. “I do hope you chose the right one,” Bobo said.
I reponded, “Oh, I have.” Then I leaned in moreso than he, touching the oak top.
“Have you?” Bobo rested his palms and speedily drummed his fingers while leaning towards me even more than before. He opened his yellowed eyes wide. Tap-ta-tap-tap-tap-rat-tat-tat--the drumming continued.
“Definitely.” I planted my elbows, bent my wrists parallel above the desk, created a resting spot with my fingertips, placed my chin on that spot, smiled brightly and exclaimed, “Indeed!”
Bobo pulled the meat of his palm to his mouth, crinkled his face, gnawed on the back of his thumb, and squealed, “Well?? What is your choice?!”
“I have decided to take the job.”
Just then, Bobo’s intercom buzzed.
“Oh good!! I knew you would make the best decision for me. Hold just a moment Nate.” He pushed the talk button on his com and addressed his secretary, “Yes Montana?”
“Your 2 o’clock is here to see you sir.”
“Is it Mr. Tolliver--the 1st Assistant to the VP of Consumer Affairs’ Assistant?”
“It sure is, Mr. Bridges,” the slutty voice added.
“Have him wait in one of the side rooms. I’m finishing up with Nate, our newest 2nd Assistant to the VP of Consumer Affairs’ Assistant right now. Give our new employee a big round of applause Montana!!”
There were three joyless claps from the other end of the intercom.
I glared at Mr. Bridges. “Let’s backdafuckup. Did I hear you just say ‘Mr. Tolliver?’ What’s his first name?”
“Haha, I forgot actually! It begins with either an S or a soft C, he’s a new hire too! Who cares?!” He stood up and moved towards the door, prodding me to follow.
“Well Nate, It’s a pleasure to have you on board. I have a business to go run now! You can start next week.”
“Um...I’ll see you then," I wearily concluded as I exited the CEO's office.
From the Webmaster: Read the Entire Burning Bridges Interview Process!
This Potential Employer Sounds Great!
Burning Bridges Cover Letter
Late for the Interview
That Darned Cat!
- Arrgh! Fuck that cat. Who the fuck does he think he is? You can’t just keep putting up vicious and meanspirited webposts about people--blogging is about so much more than that. Well, I guess it isn't, but I am not having his antics one bit. Does anyone else feel the levity of this feud? I’m so embarrassed.
Want to hear some real dirt on Oasis? He has a small penis. Take that, you asshole. Like tiny. And he certainly isn’t compensating with the girth. Oh, this one time, I let a stray alley cat in to the apartment to hang out with us and we were all chilling on the bunk beds listening to the radio. I walked over to the kitchenette area to grab myself a drink and when I turned around, I caught the final thrusts of two cats getting it on. I turned my back on them for like 10 seconds! And I know what you’re all thinking, “Man, that cat is lousy in the sack.” Which may be true, but lemme just add one bit of clarification to the scenario: the alley cat I let in was a dude.
Just sayin’ what I saw.
Hey Oasis, If you can dish it out you better be able to take it.
The nerve of this Cat!
- Ooooh! Oh no he din't! I should have had that cat destroyed when I had the chance! He keeps writing horrible and untrue things about me in his Catster diary. He made a metaphor suggesting my life's value is equivalent to a can of rotten 40 cent catfood! The nerve! How could anyone feel pity for this spiteful feline and his vitriol? He threatened to cut me! I hope there's a police officer reading this site who can testify on my behalf or perhaps find Oasis wherever he types and shoot him.
Do not feel sorry for Oasis. I've always known there was a dark side to him. I was watching The Smurfs one day and you should've seen the way he reacted when Azrael, Gargamel's incorrigible cat, came on the screen. He was springing up and down and kneading the TV. You could see the mania in his eyes. Oh! And then that time I rented Pet Semetary--Oasis rolled around on the floor in bliss and batted his paws together whenever the evil zombie cat was up to something.
Like I said before, take down that vicious slander on your site right now!
Biting the Hand that Used to kinda Feed You
- Okay, listen to this. I was nonobsessively perusing my Site Meter stats last night--I don't do it very often, mind you--and what do I see? A referral from a blog within a site called Catster.com! "That's odd," I thought, "I didn't know cats could learn HTML." Upon further investigation, I find out who this referrer is.
It's Oasis! The little pee puddle I threw out of my apartment. And he's spewing venomous drivel about me! I'll sue that idiot cat for libel if I can catch him. I didn't even know he was still in Park Slope. You're probably reading this right now, aren't you? Take that site down immediately. I refuse to have my name run through the mud!
Oasis' Catster Page - http://www.catster.com/?81018
The Interview - Part 4
Searching deeply into Bobo Bridges’ combover, I waited for it to bounce up and down in sync with peals of belly thumping laughter. I eyeballed his hands to see if they would abruptly begin slapping his knees uncontrollably in maniacal hilarity. I fixed my suspicious glare on his throat, knowing the glug glug glug of an adam’s apple in on a mean joke was arriving soon. Nothing happened. Was he being earnest? I looked down at my pants to make sure I didn’t poop myself.
“Are you for real, Mr. Bridges? You really want to hire me?”
“Mmmmmmyessss!! You’d be perfect for the position! You’ll be in charge of keeping paper clips stocked. Any stupid twit could do it. But I’m not trying to build a team of stupid twits, you see?”
“I’m better than a stupid twit?”
“Absolutely sort of! Human resources is like a jigsaw puzzle. If I used enough glue, I could make any pieces connect together, Nate. The trick to it is to put the CORRECT pieces together. Think about your penis. You can’t just go home and throw your penis in between the mattress and the box springs of your bed without a heated towel, a plastic sandwich baggy, and a few tablespoons of astroglide, can you?"
“I’m not sure.”
This whole situation was beginning to remind me of that old Groucho Marx joke via Woody Allen about how he wouldn’t want to belong to any club that would have someone like him for a member. I’ve sent my resume out to hundreds of potential employers for hundreds of jobs I’m qualified for and this is the only guy who wants me? Clearly, there’s something wrong with me. But even more clearly, there’s something wronger with the Burning Bridges Greeting Card Company. Is there another job out there? Is a cheese sandwich in the hand really better than two cheese sandwiches in the fridge?
I then said something I grew to regret 3 seconds later.
“I’m going to have to weigh my options, Mr. Bridges.”
Bobo’s standout smile turned into a wan frown and he immediately reached across his desk to take the can of Slice I was drinking. “You’re not going to need this Lemon-lime Slice then.”
I instinctively pulled my arm up in a manner suggesting I might bitchslap him.
“Hold it, Bobo.”
Should I take the job?!?!
The Interview - Part 3
- The following is the actual Interview I taped between Bobo Bridges and myself.
“What will you bring to Burning Bridges, Nate?”
“Uh...Well, you see, it’s that I have this stuff...that is just so...uh... I’m like, I can what’s the word? Like, the formal way of saying you serve people? I uh..I just bring it. Yeah, I just bring it In all aspects of my life. Because If I’m not just bringing it, who is going to? You know?”
“Interesting...Well, the position I had in mind for you when I saw your resume was 2nd Assistant to the Vice President of Consumer Affairs’ Assistant...”
“I agree with your decision Mr. Bridges. Consumer Affairs is something that resonates with my very being. I’m great at assisting people. I gave a handy to a total stranger on the way to the interview today. Just kidding. But I wouldn’t be opposed to assisting anyone in need, especially a Consumer Affairs President!”
“What are your three biggest weaknesses?”
“Oh man, this is where I blow all my interviews. So instead of answering this totally loaded and fucked up question, I’m just going to ignore it and pretend you never asked me anything while taking a long long sip from this can of Lemon lime Slice on the desk.”
“Do you have any hobbies?”
“No, not really. I couch surf and I have a blog.”
“Yeah!? I LOVE the Blogosphere!! Why didn't you tell me this earlier! Wow! A blogger! I’ve always wanted to meet one! I read Ultragrrrl and The Real Janelle every day! Don’t you love them??”
“What’s your blog? I would love to have my own blog someday--it seems so hip and fun. What's yours called??”
“Hmmm...I think I’ve seen that. It’s for gays, right? It’s not very entertaining. ”
“It’s not for gays. I mean, it’s not specifically for gays. It’s for anybody with a pulse. ”
“You know what Nate? I'm getting good vibes from you."
"You're giving me a good impression..the tuxedo, the fact that you came here even though you were stabbed in the face earlier, the blogging, etc. I don't normally get feelings about applicants because most are no good losers like this one. But I'm really feeling something tingly with you. Is $30,000 too low?”
"Will you accept my offer of employment?"
The Final Presidential Debate - The Transcript!
Question 1: Will our children be as safe as we were?
Bush: First of all, I’d like to say thanks Arizona for having us. It’s been a pleasure to come here and poop in your toilets.
Kerry: I disagree. This is where I differ from my opponent. I found no pleasure in pooping in your toilets.
Question 2: How did the U.S. end up with a flu vaccine shortage?
Bush: I forgot to put in the purchase order.
Kerry: When I’m commander in chief I will fight the flu the way I fought in Vietnam. I will shoot at people with the flu. I own a gun. I’m a hunter. There’s a head of a Polar Bear on my dresser.
Question 3: With rising costs, how do you keep from raising taxes?
Bush: Give me a break already. Christ. I don’t fucking know.
Kerry: Look at me America, I will never raise taxes. Psych!
Question 4: What do you say to someone who lost his job?
Bush: Well, first I’d cry with them then hold their hand and tell them they’re special and God still loves them and then I’d pity fuck the hell out of them.
Kerry: My plan is to open 1000 new Foot Lockers nationwide, thus creating 100,000 new jobs.
Question 5: Is Bush entirely to blame for loss of jobs?
Bush: Absolutely not.
Question 6: Do you believe homosexuality is a choice?
Bush: Homosexuality is for gaywads. John Kerry is a liberal. Liberal is a conservative codeword for homo lover.
Kerry: I have a homosexuality plan that will let you choose the homosexuality that is right for you. I’m not gonna let the top 1% of CEOS make that choice. That’s just wrong.
Question 7: Who is responsible for rising health care costs?
Bush: I no understand English. My wife speaks better Engrish.
Kerry: That guy.
Bush: Well, I guess there’s been 3 debates already and I haven’t really come up with a reason why you should vote for me during all of my bloviating and hollow displays of sincerity. John Kerry’s a liberal.
Kerry: Look, I am the undead zombie this country needs. I’m so different than President Bush. Look at how his tie is red and mine is red with invisible stripes. Vote or Die bitches.
Unification of the Brows with Frasier
Yesterday’s Christopher Reeve Memorial may have been too low brow for the average wotSAT reader. Therefore, today’s post will aspire to unify the brows by showcasing episode synopses from the high brow TV megahit Frasier.
--Remember that one where Frasier gets the flu and then Gil Chesterton--the food critic--and Niles fill in for his radio program? Gil had those strippers on the show and they fed each other links of sausage tar tare. Neurotic Frasier got all paranoid thinking that the food guy and Niles were gonna steal his job and he became more motivated than ever to get over the flu! Man, that was funny.
--Oh shit! How about that episode where Frasier throws out Martin’s chair and then Martin gets way salty at him. Frasier schleps around Seattle searching for the chair and hilariously ends up at a production of Ten Little Indians put on by some high school. Hahahah. It’s so high brow, I can’t imagine America even gets the jokes!
--Zounds! How could I forget to recall that episode when the Seattle opera house accidentally burns to the ground because Niles’ tux was soaked with gin and he was arguing with Daphne in the boiler room standing too close to that open flame. This show really appeals to me. It should have won EVERY Emmy in EVERY category!!!
--Ahh! And finally, my fav is when Niles takes up fencing for the honor of Maris after some dude called up Frasier's show and made it sound like Maris’ fencing instructor was throwing it in her. Who could forget this scene where everyone was bickering over nautical terms??
Daphne: "Schooner? I thought it was a frigate."
Niles: "No, no, a frigate has a fore-and-aft mainsail."
Daphne: "No, no, that's a brigantine."
Niles: "Oh, you're right. Well, then what's a frigate?"
Martin: [interjecting] "That's when you just don't give a damn anymore."
[CROWD & THE WORLD ERUPTS INTO LAUGHTER!!!!] (tvtome.com)
- As we all know now, Christopher Reeve died the other day after a long battle with equestrian sports. As you may not know now, there are scores of awful "jokes" being circulated on the internet about him--many of which can be found here: www.dirtyjokesinc.com/joke-short_jokes-1886.htm
I can’t believe these horrible and tasteless Christopher Reeve jokes exist. In my research I've even uncovered that a Southpark episode aired in which Christopher Reeve eats fetuses. Hollywood is disgusting! I’ve collected the jokes I found online in an effort to help us all with the healing process. Sometimes laughter is the best balm in times of grief. However, I don’t find these funny nor did I write most of them, so don’t flame me. Goodbye Christopher.
What's the difference between O.J. and Christopher Reeve?
Christopher Reeve got the Electric Chair, and OJ walked .
How does Christopher Reeve play hockey?
Who does Christopher Reeve want to be?
What's black and sits at the top of the steps?
Chris Reeve after a house fire.
How do you stop Christopher Reeve from moving?
Tape his mouth shut.
What’s the difference between Christopher Reeve and a useless sack of poop?
Stick your tongue out.
Move it up and down.
Now move it left and right.
Well done! You have now completed Christopher Reeve workout.
Christopher Reeve walks into a bar...
What song was not allowed to be played at Christopher Reeve’s funeral?
Stairway to Heaven.
What other song was barred from Christopher Reeve’s funeral?
Walk this Way.
What’s the only good thing about Christopher Reeve dying?
Steven Hawking gets a better parking spot.
That's all of them, no?
Other Bloggers look back on Christopher Reeve:
John Kerry promises to raise Christopher Reeve from the Dead.
Ozzy Osborne fell off an ATV--that don't make him a hero.
The Interview - Part 2.5
- “I'm all done with the psychological exams and the useless new applicant paperwork, Mr. Bridges,” I said as I turned the gold-plated knob on his office door and entered the CEO’s room.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa...You’re not Bobo Bridges...”
Sitting stationary at the desk, draped in all black, noticeably larger than before was unmistakably someone from my not too distant past. There sat Debbie.
Stunned with my mouth agape, I stuttered, “No nno. This can’t be!”
But then the mass that I believed to be Debbie rotated and it turned out to be totally not Debbie. It was simply a large black office chair!
“Of course I’m Bobo Bridges!” exclaimed Bobo. He flashed his trademark toothy grin and slicked forward his back-to-front sparrow colored combover with both hands and cocked his head as if a picture were being taken.
“Right you are, sir, It’s just that the chair that you are sitting in reminded me of this girl I know.”
“Your friend looks like a chair?”
“Well, sort of. She wears a burqa,” I replied sheepishly. “Look, can we just start the interview. My palms are sweating like crazy, I’m feeling I may pass out from dehydration.”
“Oh my! Please--have a Lemon-lime Slice, it’s on me,” he grabbed a cold can of Slice from a microfridge under his desk and tossed it at me. Naturally, I ducked and the can went crashing against the door I entered through. “Don’t take that one. Here’s another one.” He placed a second Lemon-lime Slice on his marble top and beckoned me to come forward and have a seat in the chair opposite his. My eyes widened.
I accepted his Slice and I opened it, ravenously suckling from the can’s mouth. I’m so thirsty. I slurped as the cold liquid galloped down my throat and I moaned, “Ah,” in total refreshment. I shook my head from side to side to gargle the Slice, back and forth and back. I could feel the cells in the furthest recesses of my extremities crying out in elation. Slice: you taste so good--like mother’s milk. Wow.
“Shall we begin?”
"I am ready."
Pre-employment Screening Psychological Written Exam
- 1. Black people--your thoughts?
A. I love them.
2. Why do you hate black people?
A. See above. What kind of questions are these???
3. What did black people ever do to you?
A. Black people never did anything to me.
4. If you were in a room with just you and 50 black people, what would you say to them?
A. I would introduce myself to each one personally and say, “You look lovely. How do you do?”
5. Lemme get this straight, you have nothing bad to say about black people?
A. Well, now that I think about it...in middle school, I was drawn into a slight altercation because I was dating this girl Jenny Milquetoast and this African American guy, Bill, wanted to date her too. It started with a french fry being thrown at me at lunch. I wasn’t just gonna sit there and let some guy throw greasy potatoes at me. What ensued was a full scale race riot that spilled out of the cafeteria, feeding into the race riot occuring simultaneously in the school library, and ultimately flooding out onto the streets. I don’t blame Bill or his people for anything. I’ve grown up. I’ve moved on.
6. What’s your favorite color?
7. What were the last 5 things you stole from an employer?
8. Is it ever OK to steal from your employer?
A. Absolutely not.
9. Have you ever been convicted of a felony?
A. Convicted? No. Wrongfully accused? Yes.
10. If we fired you just for laughs would you come back the next day and shoot the place up?
That wasn't so bad! I think I put down all the right answers. When I finished the written exam, I had another review with an on-site psychologist. He scribbled on his legal pad extensively while I chatted. He asked me why my face was all bloody and why I was wearing a tuxedo to the interview and I confided in this professional the story about how I had to pretend I was stabbed because I was running late and that I always dress to make a good first impression. He then told me I was one of the most interesting people he's ever met and that he'd like to continue seeing me! Continue seeing me=I'm a shoe-in for the job!! I hope!
The interview process continues next week!
The Interview - Part 2
- “Ah! The pleasure to meet you is all mine. I am Nate.”
Bobo’s handshake was so firm and agonizingly painful. “Oh, yeeeessss! Let’s take a walk through the Burning Bridges production office, shall we?” His back-to-front combover flopped as he talked.
“I am a big fan of walking, sir! Offices are another one of my interests too! I can tell already that my career objectives are going to mesh quite well with this company, it seems, I suppose,” I rattled agreeably.
We left the elevator banks and walked through one set of frosted double glass doors. In front of us was another set. To the right was a striking twenty-something, tall blonde woman with enormous porno cleavage standing behind a podium height desk. She looked like a Delta Airlines ticketing agent gone wild.
“Any messages for me, Montana?”
“Oh yes, Mr. Bridges. I do have one.”
“Mmmm....I love getting good messages,” replied Bobo as he slithered closer to her.
“And I love to take messages. I like long, hard messages. I take them...anywhere.”
“Even here?” Before he thought of this retarded rhetorical question, Bobo was already behind the desk with one hand up the backside of Montana’s skirt. They started kissing. Then they started french kissing. Then she pushed him against her stand and abruptly stopped, looked straight at me and sneered.
“What’s wrong with your friend?” A flustered Bobo angled himself to see my response.
“Oh, I got stabbed in the face.”
Bobo cleared his throat and came around the desk to rap me solidly on my back with his hand, “This man here might be our new employee!”
“Welcome to Burning Bridges,” Montana said with boredom.
With that, we proceeded through the second set of double doors.
The office was about 2000 square feet of total anarchy. A factory-sized automated printing press was making horrible ear splitting noises while it crunched cardstock, shredding and shooting it into the air and floor. Two women in powersuits were screaming at each other about how to stop the machine. A man in a tie and rolled up sleeves was kicking another man in a tie and torn off sleeves on the ground in the ribs. A fire was raging on a desk near the back while some guy fumbled with an extinguisher. Three children were chasing each other through all the chaos playing tag while a border collie with a frisbee in its mouth was playfully chasing the children and jovially barking at them.
“It’s always hectic here right before the holidays,” Bobo joked as we veered to the right and down a corridor leading to his office. “Oh Nate, before we get to the interview, I need you to fill out some paperwork.”
“Good thing I brought a pen, sir!”
He grabbed some documents from a file cabinet and continued, “Right...Yes, well it’s not much--just a formal application, some questionnaires, a few PRE-EMPLOYMENT PSYCHOLOGICAL EXAMINATIONS, etc. Nothing to worry about...if you're sane!”
He chuckled. Then I chuckled. We both chuckled together. Then he stopped. I kept chuckling.
"Fill out all these useless papers, take the exams, and come back to me when you're done."
To be continued!
Bon Jovi vs. The Beast
- Ever since Bon Jovi began plugging his mug and his Arena Football team all over The Real World: Philadelphia, many of his generation's superstars have been overcome with jealous and maniacal rage! How can one man have that much staying power? Star of the 1987 shortlived TV megahit, Beauty and the Beast, wants to know his secret!
"Grrr! I may live in the subway like mole people, but I'll come out and fight you any day of the week Bon Jovi!" -- The Beast
Other classic match-ups:
Ranch Dressing vs. Ketchup
Lynndie England vs. winneroftheSAT
Ashlee Simpson vs. Talkatoo Cockatoo
The Interview - Part 1
I really should have bladed my forehead to simulate a stabbing BEFORE I got into the human resources office but AFTER I got out of the subway. I forgot to take into account the tens of thousands of tourists and hobos I would have to walk by who would stare or say something nasty under their breath. It hurt me so much when I heard a wide eyed child inquire, “Why is that man’s face all bloody?” The mother grabbed the boy and whispered, “Shush!! That’s not polite.” I could feel a tear welling up in my eye. I wiped it away, sniffled, then tried to wipe the blood on my face onto my tux. These people don’t know what it’s like. I sobbed inwardly. This is why I don’t like going out. I sound like a fattie, don’t I?
The best response to my Ric Flair-worthy crimson mask was the typical New Yorker response in which the people on the train pretended the blood vessels in my forehead aren’t rupturing all over. Many just sat there reading the Post or the Daily News acting too cool for school. They don’t have time for my gushing brow.
I was beginning to feel somewhat dizzy from the blood loss by the time I got out of the subway. The sun was shining really bright and the crisp autumn air nipped at my crusty face. The Burning Bridges office is located downtown across from the old World Trade Center site. I walked into the building lobby and a massive bronze markup of the Burning Bridges logo stood square in front of me. Saddling the logo were two sculptures of a man in a business suit posed in a rather flamboyant and dramatic contraposto conscious manner. These muscular characters had bountiful Roman hair and large rippling muscles. They looked similar in form and style to Michaelangelo’s unfinished late works.
Trying my best to dab the big dollups of scarlet up with my satin jacket, I put on a little facial moisturizer, messed up my hair a bit, then got in the elevator. “To the 30th floor, please. I have an appointment with Bobo Bridges,” I announced to the elevator operator. “Oops, I didn’t see your Little Caesar’s uniform. I’ll get the button.” The little man just glared at me. “Don’t eyeball me, fucker,” I said to myself.
I thought of the many hip things I should be doing in a NYC elevator such as this, but then I figured it’d be best to just play it straight.
Then the door opened.
A man with the same facial structure but significantly less hair than those sculptures downstairs stood right in front of me with a wide snaggletoothed smile. His frame was perhaps barely a fraction of the size of those statues. He was also sporting the combover from hell. He reached out his hand and I met his with mine.
“Mmmmyeeessss! I am Bobo!”
To Be Continued!
Late for the Interview
- Aarrgh! Where’s my Wave & Groom? Where’s my fucking volumizer spritz? Why can’t I find anything. I’m late, I’m late! Jeezus. My interview at the Burning Bridges Greeting Card Company is at 12!
Ah, I’ve been looking for my sunscreen. Here it is. Okay, I can put this on after I put my contacts in but before I apply my hair products to my head. I don’t want to contaminate my lenses. This is so frustrating, the Downy Wrinkle Release hasn’t dried yet on my cummerbund and I still have to look up how to tie a bowtie online. I ususally wear a clip-on with my tux, but I want to make a really good first impression today, so I purchased a real one at Dee & Dee.
Ugh, I can’t put on this shirt until I shave my chest! What am I thinking? Oh God, I’m out of deoderant. Fuck. Wait, it’s okay, my old roommate Debbie left hers in the medicine cabinet. Secret?! Figures she wears this. *Sniff* Damn it! It smells like dumb bitch. Well, I can't just sweat profusely down the insides of my sleeves. Or can I? No, I probably shouldn't.
*Ding Ding* Oh good, my Eggo waffles are done toasting. Perfect. I can eat these while I brush my teeth. I’m gonna be so freaking late to this. Maybe I should call and say I’m behind schedule? That’s so unprofessional though. Maybe I can skip the slow F train, run a few extra blocks now, and take the Q Express train instead. That could save me 8 minutes on my commute. I hate riding with all those minorities though. Oh, what to do...
*Gets out cell phone*
“Hello Mr. Bridges? Hi yes, this is Nate S. How are you? Me? I’m okay, I’m running just a bit late. Why? Oh, my reason?...uh..I was uh...I was stabbed! Where? On 7th Avenue. Oh, um...In the head!! Yeah, some guy just totally stuck me with a shiv. Owwwww. Oh sorry...it’s just that this knifewound hurts so much. I’ll be there as soon as I can, Mr. Bridges. Reschedule? No way! I’ll be there. I’ll be there at 12:20. Thank you for understanding. Bye-bye.”
Damn it, I’m an idiot. Now I have to blade my fucking forehead just like professional wrestlers do. Figures, all my knives are dirty in the sink. Ah, here's my boxcutter. Before I give myself a crimson mask, I'll throw those contacts in finally and finish this waffle. This is such a relief now that I don't have to be there at 12. Maybe I have time to rewatch the premiere of Desperate Housewives I taped. No, I should just unplug the toaster, take a shower, shave my chest, put my tux on, slice open my brow with a razorblade, call Mr. Bridges to tell him I'm going to be later, do my hair, and go.
- It worked! I totally tricked the Burning Bridges Greeting Card Company into thinking I am qualified for their open positions! I'm not! Not even remotely! ha ha! What a bunch of suckers! Bobo Bridges himself called me to request an interview. On the phone, Bobo sounded much like a Frank Nelson character, that salesman--oh gosh, I might be dating myself here--from the Jack Benny Show. You know who I'm talking about, the snooty guy with the moustache that goes, "Mmmmyyeeeessss!"
Interview on monday!