Friday, March 31, 2006

Ulterior Motives in Employment: A Recent Confession

" be honest, I think the first stirrings of my now rather exotic palate came from a childhood steeped in the books of Richard Scarry. Y'know, page after page of simians and reptiles and what-not driving around in cars and such...flaunting their anthropomorphism...these images would normally stir the imagination of the young, expanding their educations via whimsical cartoony drawings of animals acting like people. In my case, it made me hungry for beast flesh not readily available at the foodshelves and soup kitchens my family tended to frequent. How was I supposed to get my mouth around, say, a Papio Sphinx (a Mandrill to the uninformed) or the surprisingly delicious flanks of many of the odd-toed ungulates? I mean it's my opinion that a person has not lived a proper life until they've spent an evening ingesting Moutain Tapir with a side of Sumatran Rhinoceros nostrils. After much inner-puzzling on how I might finally realize my newly awakened gustatory desires I came upon the perfect scenario...

Get a job at the local zoo.

10 years on, gainfully employed, happy-stomached, and none of the powers-that-be at the Zoo have ever wondered what happened to the free-range peacocks, select residents of the Herpetarium, Jordan the Orangutan, et cetera..."


Thursday, March 30, 2006

Roger the English Bulldog is 8 today!!!

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Tuesday, March 28, 2006

Lyin' to the Kids...Again

To whom it may concern,

I am deeply worried for your children, Mister Guy-at-the-Candy-Shop. I happened to overhear your explanation to the young ones as to where M&Ms come from and, if I may be honest, do you really think for a moment that they believe your claims that these particular candies are, as you put it, "harvested from the Gall Bladder and Kidneys of the Wonka Family's Black Sheep(Dark Chocolate?) son, Milquedud?"

Really...who do you think you're fooling?

Big Boy Theft: 1992
As related to me by Your Pal, Jim (of lovely MilWookiee)

Back in '92 or so there was some stoner dude Pete who was trying really hard to be my friend. He'd give me big boxes of Dylan bootlegs (ugh) and naked pictures of his HOT girlfriend Caroline (yay!), and he'd just come over unnanounced and knock on my window. Anyway, one time he convinced me to go with him on an "errand", and I went just to get rid of him.

We went to a warehouse where all the old Big Boy stuff was being stored. Big Boy had just changed to Marc's Restaurants around here. Dude suddenly BROKE a window and opened a garage door, and next thing I knew I was carrying the burger end of one of those fiberglass statues through the woods.

Then all of a sudden it was light. There was a cop light on us. I dropped my end and ran all the way home. I don't know what happened to Pete.

Two months later, he slid a picture of his room under my door with the Big Boy statue in the corner. I think the feet were sawed off to make it fit. I gotta admit, it looked pretty great

I love it.


This Week's Contender for Sentence of the Week?

...and next thing I knew I was carrying the burger end of one of those fiberglass statues through the woods.


Might even work as a new-fangled euphemism...


Monday, March 27, 2006

Vino Vengeance?
An excerpt from a scribbled note found 'glued' to the underside of bar stool

"...and the damn bowls of beernuts and pretzels and what-not are always sodden with, one can only assume, some damn fellow's spilled beverage of choice or the expectorated depths of some bastard's lungs, I swear to fuck...hell, maybe even the flop sweat from some over-cholesteroled fat fuck's freakin' flop sweat raining down on the tavern's finger food. It's not like these damn snacks make their own damn gravy if you add fluid, you know what I mean? Whichever moistening agent it may have been, it got to the point where I had to do SOMETHING to protest the condition of the noshes (since the proprietor doesn't take kindly to helpful suggestions--like a sneeze-shield or something for the bowls--nor has a Comment Card box...not that he'd listen anyway, harrumph); and I wasn't about to let him WIN by taking my business sirreeBob.

I ain't no Mathemagician or nothin' but I've employed to following equation over the last couple of weeks (thus far to no avail...but I'm a patient fellow):

Guzzle 5 boxes of wine
Go to bar
Load 50 quarters into Jukebox, choose TIny Bubbles by Don Ho to play 50 times consecutively
Wet self to the chorus each time it comes on

Sooner or later someone's going to get the meaning behind my performance-art-as-snack-protestations, I swear to God..."

Saturday, March 25, 2006

Torched Drawers and Pricey Pork

or How it is that Fidel has Stuck around for so long

But it is the details offered by Mr Fernandez, rather than his political denunciations, that are fascinating. He was told, for instance, by the President's chief bodyguard, that Castro has his old underwear incinerated so they cannot be laundered with deadly chemicals to assassinate him. On another occasion, he was despatched across the Atlantic to bring back a $2,500 consignment of 'pata negra' ham, considered Spain's finest.

Just like my mother used to tell me in her own wise matronly way:

Always wear clean undies and be sure your pork intake is the finest money can buy.

Perhaps my own madre gleaned this knowledge from Castro's mom?

Uh oh.


Friday, March 24, 2006

Janitorial Traces: Part Two

It's no secret that I spent many years (most of high school through college) employed as a Janitor at a local public radio station. There are countless tales that could be told (someday I will commit to writing down the events leading to my complimenting the pants of Kris Kristofferson or the time I caught a certain Woebegoner gettin' a lil' sweetness outside the basement elevator) and it was these many years and experiences that have often drawn me into conversations with the janitors I run into wherever I may be employed at and so on.

Kindred a manner of speaking.


Anyhoo, today I headed out back behind the college I'm employed at (heater break) and immediately noted the school's Janitor scrubbing away at the blacktop with a mop and some cleaning fluid. Curiosity got the better of me (I'd never seen anyone ever slopping a mop around on tar before...spraying shit down with a hose, sure...but a mop?!?) and I had to engage this gentleman in conversation in order to appease the pondering going round and round in my grey matter. As it turns out, some employees had been frying burgers up on a grill there for some odd student appreciation day activity at some point and, now that the weather is warming up, the frozen grease was thawing and being tracked through the school and, obviously, staining/discoloring the carpeting throughout the building.

Or so the Janitor suspected.

We had a good laugh about this and I thought I'd share a tale of my own from my days of Janitoring.

It goes like this:

One night, ages ago, I was heading to the Men's Room on the Fourth Floor (the one frequented by the male On-Air Staff, Reporters, Engineers, Studio Guests, and--heh--the occasional Janitor) to do the nightly mopping. Upon flinging the door open to the only stall in there, I was greeted by a lovely, not-so-steamy log of shit...

With a footprint in it.

And a smattering of footsteps leading away from it.

Someone SOMEHOW had managed to shit on the floor less than two feet away from the toilet bowl and--seeemingly unknowingly as best as I could guess--trodded 'pon it on their escape from the Head.

Fucking amazing.

A wet mop ain't going to get all that shit was ground into the cracks between the floor tiles.

Naturally, this was a fantastic and odiferous fifteen minutes of my life.

End of tale.

Back to the present.

The Janitor I related this tale to had a great laugh at this (as did I NOW many many years later) and, as luck (?) would have it, had his own POO story to share.

And it tops mine by a long shot.

This fellow had been employed for many years at a downtown Saint Paul bank building. One afternoon, during business hours, he discovered that somehow SOMEWAY someone had defecated on one of the bank's escalators.

And the escalator was still running.

Thus, the shit was smeared (and ground into the escalator stair grooves) all the way around it's circular metallic path.

The remedy?

He stood at the bottom of the escalator with a mop and slop bucket, perfectly stationary, holding the mop over the bottom of the escalator's path and let the motion of it moisten and, hopefully, cleanse, the pulverised and ground in smeary mess from it's parts. He swore (in more ways than one you'd suspect) he had to stand there for an hour before he got it all off...give or take the random doodle kernels and nuggets that, more than likely, had dropped into the escalator's inner workings.


That beats the hell out of my Deuce Droppin' tale.

We parted with the acknowledgement that mopping grease off blacktop beat the shit (heh) out of either of our Crap Removal Exercises.

And so it goes (or So some folk bastards)


Thursday, March 23, 2006

Today's Overheard Lunchroom Confessional

I swear to fuck the following statements came flittering out of the employee breakroom (I was sitting within earshot):

"I won't go anywhere near ostriches...but I WILL eat their eggs and I'll eat their meat. I do, however, have pictures of my boyfriend riding one...holding onto the wings and stuff."

I'm uncertain if, in fact, her lunch consisted of said terrestrially-bound bird eggs and/or flesh and I am also uncertain what exactly brought about these exclamations.

I am certain that shortly after this outburst that the following was stated by the same woman with only a few moments seperating each statement:

"When I sneeze I have to cross my legs so that I don't piss myself. That's what happens when you've had a few kids."


Let's see:

Giant Bird
Giant Bird lays Giant Eggs
Said Giant Eggs and Giant Bird Meat are delicious
Boyfriend Astride Giant Bird
Birthin' Babies
Potential Pissing of Oneself if legs not Crossed

Got it. I can now totally see the segue.

Too Bad these guys Broke Up...I love the band's name

Wednesday, March 22, 2006

Television Show Series Finale that Should Have Been...but Wasn't, Dammit

The Six Million Dollar Man

Steve Austin is finally at his wit's end with all the damn encounters/skirmishes with Sasquatch (as portrayed by the late Andre the Giant). These hostile feelings of his towards the Bionic Bigfoot--coupled with the more amorous ones for his mechanically-enhanced female counterpart, Jamie Sommers-- leads him to a Final Solution...kill the wooly 'droid and--taking advantage of Oscar Goldman's OSI connections throughout the world-- bringing the 'Quatch pelt to a reputable furrier for the construction of a lovely stole and muffler ensemble with which to woo the Bionic Woman with. Show wraps (heh) with a lovely wedding ceremony and promised of eternal bliss betwixt the two.


Tuesday, March 21, 2006

Things I NEVER Said as a Kid and Still Not Likely to Utter here in my Dotage

"Might I have another plum, mother?"

"I am SOOO glad my entire wardrobe is comprised of velure v-necks and Husky-sized corduroy Wranglers. Thank Goodness for the Sears Outlet Store!"

"Dear sister, isn't it fortunate that our beloved parents leave their bedroom door open whilst they make with the coitus?"

"If I were Royalty I would certainly take advantage of said position in society to bring Fishsticks to the masses; they are the perfectest form of breaded nourishment."

"Tis delightful when my name gets rhymed with PONY, PHONEY, BALOGNA, and peers are destined to reach heights of poetic bliss even higher than those reached by the likes of Shel Silverstein and Emily Post."

"Should I send a fan letter to William Conrad?"

"Whatever motivates the sodden lads of the neighborhood to hurl defenseless terrestrial mollusks at yon motor vehicles?"

"Powdered Milk? By the Heavens Above is it not the perfect fluid in which to float one's Lucky Charms?"

"I find it exceedingly difficult to fathom why you think it is that mine sister defecates in her undergarments, malador be damned."

"This long-handled comb poking rakishly from my hip-pocket acknowledges the glory of these luscious feathered tresses of mine."

"I must have more Monchichis!!!"


Monday, March 20, 2006


Haven't done any anagrams of my name they be and some short explanatory blurbage after each:

Ropy O'Mental
An Irish Hippy alias I'll consider for next Saint Patrick's Day

Proto Manley
Possible new term for Neanderthal

Torn Maypole
Will bring tears to Russian Children on May 1st

Lamprey Toon
Who doesn't like animated sea life (aside from landlubbers and Communists)?

Mealy Proton
Dog-earred on the sub-atomic level

Ornately Mop
This former Janitor's pride

Moot Plenary
Wholly irrevelant

Planet Roomy
Sounds like a website for Foodies

Moor Penalty
Moor Aplenty
Well...I was raised by a Sicilian Father...

Parole Monty
A sexy dance will get me out of the clink

Moony Alpert
The name I might take if joining a particular cult; "Say...nice robes and Top-Knot ya got there, Moony."

Tapley Moron
A post-humous nickname acquired by those that die due to unchecked Tape Worm activity in one's gastro-intestinal system

Earl Toponym
A nobleman of geographic names...but no actual land itself, dammit

Loony Tamper
I repress any and all nutbags encountered

Tyre Lampoon
I've been known to make light of the British and there choice in spelling Tire

Matronly Poe
Ma's missin' an ear AGAIN

Loam Entropy
Even dirt'll break down if ya give it enough time

Playroom Net
One manner in which adults can wrangle the rampaging youth

Mortal Peony
The limited life-span of a specific garden plant

Malty Operon
A potential explanation of specific genetic material I might come up with if I worked for the Human Genome Project

Remy Platoon
My infamous commando unit more reknowned for their alcoholic escapades than anything that could truly be deemed 'heroic'

Aptly Monroe
For use when comparing someone's actions to those of Jim Bullock

Tampon Leroy
A parody of Mustang Sally that doesn't get the airplay it deserves

Looney Tramp
Favored Homeless Folk mindset

Motley Apron
Purchased at the Theater of Pain concert back in the used as an oil rag


Friday, March 17, 2006

Happy St. Patrick's Day from 2 Fat Scout Troopers!

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Thursday, March 16, 2006

Today's "MacGyver" Sighting

A middle-aged woman was in front of me at the gas station this morning (my normal stop for pre-work coffee) and I couldn't help but take note of her purchases; namely:

A six pack of Charmin toilet paper (where have you gone, Mister Whipple?)

One banana

One pack of Kool 100s (hard pack)

Now, a person with 'normal' sensibilities would be inclined to assume (wrongly, I might add) that here's a lady that likes to enjoy a piece of fruit and a minty heater whilst unloading her truck at the porcelain warehouse.

Not I.

Ol' Ms. MacGyver was heading home to arm herself with a self-made banana bazooka...fueled by the menthol she was going to extract from her cigarettes of choice (a delightfully minty launch, no doubt) and shot forth from the taped-together and de-papered toilet paper cardboard tubes.

Her target?


But I would not be surprised if I read in tomorrow's paper about some man/woman being pierced with a tropical projectile and left injured and smelling imexplicably like minty ashtray.


Wednesday, March 15, 2006

Today, 69 Years Ago

HP Lovecraft passed away. To honor the man and his writings, here's a Plush Cthulhu:

I'm sure he'd be tickled by this...and vice voce if said Cthulhu doll's gotta Tickle-Me-Elmo ticklebox hidden within it's innards.

Think of the marketing potential!!!


Tuesday, March 14, 2006

Panhandler Line of the Week

"I've got Type II Diabetes and need a damn sammich."

Overheard at Work: Don't Know the Context Division

"Did you ever read SHOGUN?"

This was said by some fellow to someone on his phone with nary a mention of Richard Chamberlain's role in the television mini-series.


Monday, March 13, 2006

Lying to VIPs

Due to connections of the missus, I had to go to a soiree yesterday. In attendance was the King of Norway's Consulate General among many other high profile guests. The gentleman hosting the party asked everyone to introduce themselves and explain what it is they do for a living and so on.

Plenty of responses like:

Professor of Such and Such at So and So reputable University.

Doctor of Whatever.

Blah Blah Blah.

My turn swings around and I say without pause (no shit):

"I'm Tony and, as a lad, I always dreamed of owning and operating my very own Shoeshine Franchises. Fortunately for the Masses and their respective footwear, this is and shall remain a pipe dream."

A smattering of chuckles.

I spent the rest of the afternoon answering questions about where my interest in shoeshining came from.

One answer involved Underdog's alter-ego, Shoeshine Boy as a personal role model.


Friday, March 10, 2006

Don't Fuck around with Bob Barker!!!

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Thursday, March 09, 2006

Overheard at Work: The I-Don't-Even-Want-To-Know-What-This-Means-Division

Administrator to a student:

"Whenever I see you I think of my Backdoor."

Euphemism Drive Engaged and Fully Operational, Cap'n.


Wednesday, March 08, 2006

Another Instance when you Realize You're Married to a Mathemagician

The following statement is spoken in your general direction (context removed to protect the Flatulent):

"Gas is also produced by Broccoli, the Fractal in your Refrigerator."


Monday, March 06, 2006

My favorite Moment from Last Night's OSCARS

The movie adaptation of Jane Austen's PRIDE AND PREJUDICE was nominated for several Oscars last night.

Me (sarcastically with a slight lilting quality to my voice after yet another mention of PAP): I LOVE Jane Austen!

The Non-Springsteen Boss (Grape-enabled): You've never read any Jane Austen.

Me (heh...the game is afoot): Sure I have.

TNSB: Name a Jane Austen book other than PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.

Me: ...

TNSB: See? You haven't!

Me: Do Books on Tape count?

TNSB: It doesn't matter. Name another Jane Austen book!

Me (dramatic pause accompanied with inner-sniggering): Logan's Run?


Sunday, March 05, 2006


As I noted earlier (see February 24th Entry):

Many years ago Peter Gabriel begged us, the listening public, lyrically to SHOCK THE MONKEY TO LIFE. For those of us who found this sentiment right up our Pro-Monkey Alleys (not a euphemism), twas a fine tune with words we could really get behind (in a manner of speaking). I's really sad to see a dead monkey...only a heartless anti-simian jackass would want to leave 'em expired, correct?

As it turns out there are other musical artists out there with their own distinct Monkey plans; plans of which I've only just uncovered (i.e. made up).

On to Part Two:

Art Garfunkel: Monkey Pelt Hair Replacement

Intimidated by the luscious fro-locks of his loin-spawn (see above), He-That-Is-Funkel recalled the words to an unreleased Simon and Garfunkel song (as penned by the equally hair-challenged Paul) that claimed, "the Monkey Do, the Monkey See, yet you rarely see a Do-less Monkey...sha la la," and immediately set out upon the path of acquiring one from which to harvest a scalp. Sadly, after an intensive sixteen hour procedure, it was soon discovered that his remaining curls had a strong anti-Monkey agenda and aggressively rejected the donor tresses (it has long been rumored that the rejection was so strong that the hair itself is still in a low geosynchronous orbit over New York City).


Saturday, March 04, 2006

A New Euphemism I'll be Introducing into my Vernacular

Thanks to an appearance by Steve Emerson, a terrorism expert, on Yesterday's Today Show (discussing the Bush trip to Pakistan and so on) I now have this particular phrase to use when feeling a bit salacious and enigmatic:

"Cowering in the Rose Garden."

Make of that what you will.


Friday, March 03, 2006

No Jacket/Clothing Required

A Tale of Phil Collins as related to me by Your Pal, Jim

YPJ's spills the beans (heh) on a coworker's encounter with a nude Phil Collins.

Alright, so I have to check Brian's recollection with another guy I barely know, but the story goes that Brian's friend Raphael was at his gym, and the Pfister Hotel gives its' VIP's passes to the same gym. So Raphael sees the occasional celebrity there.

A couple years ago, Phil Collins was there, and Phil was the old man who struts around nude by the lockers talking to people with his drumstick out for no damn reason. I guess he was being very naked and obnoxious, telling people about how he was Phil Collins and playing to such-and-such many people that night and so on, all while nude.

Nothing to show off, they say. I mean, yes he was Phil Collins... but he wasn't PHIL COLLINS, y'know?


Thursday, March 02, 2006


An open Blog in which I will post select things I've typed elsewhere today worth noting/nothing(9AM-Whenever I leave Work):

"Well, damn...I seemed to have Pollacked my waitress."

"Carl's (Carl Weathers) is into 'kake action, eh?"

"Greasy Italian Tank takes on a whole new meaning...thanks, Burgess/Mickey."

"Our Hoedown is sublime."

"Fuckin' Larry Hagman always hornin' in on other people's action."

"Only when the Mule's name is CORN."

"Or Certs/Tic-Tacs/Kit-Kats/Pixie Sticks/Toblerones carved into Weiner Shapes..."

"And if Leg-umes were hesitant extremities."

"If Kilmer can pull-off a Mr. Mojo Risin' I s'pose he could De Niro up for a Van role (from Jim to Van Morrison in just a few key strokes)."


"Save the last Lamb-Daddy for me."

"Chewable Burro."

"I've been known to buff the Giant Penny."

"Mister Hagar prefers them drenched in Tequila and going a steady 55 MPH."

"Only by the Zombie of Wife-Beater Bing."

Then I found this picture:

And quit for the day...entirely put off the entire Pillsbury line for...oh...probably forever.


Wednesday, March 01, 2006

Fan the Shoulder-bound Cherub!!!

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