We're creatures of habit ... creatures of comfort.
You know how you get used to stuff? Little things that make life nice for you ... things you're used to ... stuff you come to expect ... preferences ... you're own little quirks and kinks which keep you calm, cool and collected?
Well, I'm no different. I'm just like you. I have my likes and my dislikes. I prefer my creamer poured into my coffee cup before my coffee ... I shave before I shower ... I fold my shirts a certain way for a reason ... 'Hokay!' is a real word in my book.
And I prefer lots of things hard. I don't like Three Musketeers candy bars. (That gooey soft center is yucky.) My mattress? Make it firm. Chunky peanut butter with lots of crunch, please ... not that wimpy smooth stuff.
And my toilet seat needs to be hard; no soft, foamy cushion for this tush.
But that changed a few days ago. You see, I recently moved out of my house and I am now the guest of friends. And I couldn't ask for more hospitable hosts than the folks I'm with currently.
However ... their bungalow, where I'm currently residing? The restroom toilet seat therein houses one of those foamy, collapsing rings that 'settles' when you sit on it. It feels like your ass is being sucked into the toilet. It's as if the ring is alive. When you sit on it, you feel as if you're slowly sinking into the bowl. 
Which naturally spurs the imagination: What it really feels like is that there are Pod People in the toilet and they're trying to suck me into their underground lair, ass first. (All right - so maybe it doesn't spur your imagination as much as it does mine ...)
Rather the frightening thought, not to mention the frightening feeling, right? If you'ven't ever had the 'pleasure' of a cushy toilet seat (and, for the life of me, I have no clue who would), then riddle me this: What would you think if you sat on the pot and suddenly felt as if you were being sucked into its porcelain confines? Creeped out, that's what! It's like Pod People are sucking at your ass ... with the rest of your body to inevitably follow!
Hey, Pod People! There's nothing there you want! Really! It's just ass! Nothing more! You seriously don't want to go there! Trust me! Besides, I always thought it was our minds you wanted to possess ... to turn us into your zombific minions and commit your foul deeds! Right? If that's truly the case, you're working the wrong end of our bodies and you need to head north. You're starting from the bottom of our top and that route is going to take you that much longer to accomplish your dastardly deeds!
Not to mention (and most importantly of all): It's an 'exit', not an 'entrance'! If you want to get at us, that's the wrong orifice! You start violating our derrieres and you'll just have us screaming frantically and ruining any chance you might have in taking total control of us.
Bottom line: Our asses aren't the way to go.
I know ... I know: You Pod People are not of this earth, but believe you me: The majority of us will confirm the fact the ass is not the way to go. 
And, while I'm certain the creators of the cushy toilet seat had initial good intentions, I'm not on board with the whole comfort thing when it comes to 'visiting the library'. Get in, get out, get done.
Give me cool, slick, hard ovalness anytime.
And keep the Pod People out of my ass.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
The Pod People Want My Ass
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Ladies & Gentlemen: Asshat Of The Week
And it will happen here, nationally.”
- University of Virginia political scientist Larry Sabato
- comment by toonguy
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
There Are No Such Things As Bad Words
Good Gordness .....
I surely hope this does not become as rampant a panic as the (overly hyped) Swine Flu epidemic.
Seriously, people: Don't you have better things to do than be ignorant?
*sigh*
................... Ruprecht ( STOP )
Thanks for pissing me off today, David .....
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Courtesy Charge, My Butt
Check in hand, I entered Bank Of America.
After a short wait in line, I was suddenly called to the next available "associate". I signed the back of the check in front of her, took out my driver's license and handed both over. She scanned the check through her reader and confirmed I wanted to cash the check. I answered I did.
"Would you mind running your card to confirm your account?" she asked.
"I don't have an account here," I replied. She nodded at my response.
After a few moments of tapping away on her computer, she noted: "There will be a $5.00 courtesy fee for cashing the check since you don't have an account with us."
I looked at her. "I would appreciate it if you waived that fee."
She looked up at me. "I'm sorry sir, but I can't do that."
"Why not?" I asked. "I would get more of a courtesy if you waived it rather than charge me for it."
"Sir," she again told me "I can't do that."
"Well ... thank you very much. May I speak with your supervisor?" I politely asked.
She asked me to hold tight while she went over to speak with a woman a short walk from her. The Other Woman came over to me.
"May I help you, sir?"
"Yes," I replied. "It seems I'm being penalized for not having an account and I would appreciate you doing away with the fee you plan on charging me for conveniently walking into your bank and doing business with you."
"Well, I'm sorry sir, but if you don't have an account at this bank, we can't cash your check without charging you the fee."
"Sure you can," I stated. "You see, it's just a matter of waiving the fee. That's all. It would be an all together different affair if the fee was earned, but what you are doing by imposing the fee is not charging me a courtesy fee - which isn't "courteous" in the least, by the way - so much that you are penalizing me for coming in off the street out of convenience to me and conducting business with you."
"I understand your concern, sir, but I cannot waive the fee," she attempted to explain.
"Well ... maybe your manager can do what you cannot," I suggested. "Is he available?"
"I'll get him for you," she answered.
A full seven minutes later, the manager (who I caught eyeing me several times while The Other Woman went over to speak with him) finally sauntered over.
My position was relayed to him.
“You can always go to your bank, if you wish, sir.”
“You are correct. I can. However, it was convenient for me to stop into your establishment this evening instead of haul all the way across town to my home bank.”
“Regardless, the service fee still must be charged being you are not a customer, sir.”
“Oh? Now it’s a ‘service’ fee? When I was speaking with the other lady before, it was a courtesy fee … and not very courteous in my opinion. Let me ask you something: Would you be willing to pull out your wallet and pay that ‘service’ fee for me, good sir?”
“Now … why would I do that?” he asked.
“Doesn’t seem fair for you to do something like that now, does it? Just as I feel it’s not fair you are penalizing me for walking into your bank to cash a check. And that’s exactly what it is – a penalty. It’s not a courtesy fee … it’s not a service fee. You don’t even earn the five bucks, you just out and out zap me for it.”
“You can always go back to the person that issued the check and ask them to front you an extra $5.00. That way, you won’t be shorted the money coming to you.”
“Oh … that’s fair. Sorry … but that is a sad, sad suggestion and I don’t appreciate the manner in which it was given. On top of the way you treat strangers who come in to do business with your bank as well as the unearned charges the bank assesses, these reasons, among others, are why I choose not to do business with your establishment. Thank you very much for the your response and the zero help you’ve given me this evening. 
Please be so good as to give me one of your cards so that I may write the Bank Of America to let them know of my displeasure, if you please. And so that you know specifically, the bank I do business with - Chase - does not charge people coming off the street fees such as yours does.”
For the record: I’ve had this little verbal exchange with the employees of Bank Of America. And the managers I encountered and dealt with the previous two times this situation came up (yes, “managers”, as Bank Of
Monday, June 15, 2009
Thank You. Thank You Very Much .....
Dear Dumbasses:
I appreciate you. I really do.
You know how sometimes you get that feeling deep down inside, the one where you say to yourself “Hey … it’s all about me and no one else!” and nothing is going to stop you from stating otherwise? It’s something we all do in some form or another. Often, it’s something we all strive not to do, but we find ourselves falling into that trap time and again, whether out loud for others to hear … or silently within our own consciousness.
Well … thanks to your generous efforts, you made certain I circumvented those selfish thoughts. You made it clear it’s not about me, not at all. It’s about you and your zealous nature, your zeal in expressing the love for your team in their moment of glory.
‘Cause, after Sunday’s Los Angeles Laker victory over the Orlando Magic, I discovered it’s not about the Laker’s decisive win in the least. It’s not about the pride of a city for their team. And it’s not even about shouting out to the rest of the nation Los Angeles is the best in pro basketball at this moment.
It’s about you. You and your asshattery.
You see: I don’t have enough to do. I need to do more. And you helped to remind me of that, too.
You helped to remind me that I need to explain to complete strangers why Los Angeles is a terrific place to live, despite dumbass hooligans such as yourself. You helped to remind me I need something other than L.A.’s flagging economy to back up to when friends of mine all over the country ask “How’s ‘Ah-Nuld’?” You further helped to remind me it’s necessary to convince total strangers to my business of something other than the need to charge 9.75% sales tax for the wares I supply to them. And, thankfully, you’ve provided an out for me to do so.
So … here’s to each and every one of you brainiacs out there who celebrated by looting and stealing and starting fires and causing damage after the Lakers spiffy win Sunday. I just want to say thanks.
It only took you a moment or two to turn my selfish thoughts to something else. And I appreciate that more than you know.
Yours Sincerely (and unselfishly) .....
Surveys Post-Lakers-Victory Damage
"Classy. You know, Boston may have a Puritan reputation, but at least we don't tear our city apart when our sports teams win." - Justin Hall
"This is truly sad that a very small minority of so-called Laker fans can turn what should have been a celebration into an excuse for a riot. They are not in any way, shape or form to be considered sports fans, they are nothing more than punks and thugs and they make me ashamed to be a Los Angeles native." - Commenter
"What scumbags ... I hope that anyone who sees the face of someone they know in the many L.A. Times photographs taken last night calls the police and turns those people in. Everyone who took part in the theft or vandalism, or knows someone who took part and doesn't do anything about it, should be ashamed and know that they represent the WORST of society." - Commenter
"Another splendid display of downtown L.A. civility. A bunch of stupid hoodlums." - Commenter