Dude, I’m so sorry, but our Facebook relationship has to end here.When I first accepted your Friend Request, I never expected anything like the past two months to happen. I can’t tell you how surprised I was to find a confirmation asking if I was your son. How could I one-up that? It was so original and just so hilariously ironic- I’m 6 months older than you!

Soon we had hooked up randomly at Stacy Watson’s house party in 1992; within days we had met in Uganda, fighting Rita Repulsa. The lies, bro, the lies! When will they end? Last week I got three wall posts asking me what “Space Camp” was like. You know as well as I do that we never went Space Camp! Will it ever be enough for you?

I thought you’d get the hint yesterday when I canceled your confirmation about working together as wine tasters last summer; but sure enough this morning I have 1 pending friend request. What is it now, man? Did we go to Pee Pee Doo Doo Junior High? Did we take “Butt Sex 101″ together?

I’m afraid I’m going to have to change our relationship to “I don’t even this person,” because quite frankly, I don’t even know you anymore.

This hurts me, bro, and you can only expect a status like “Ian is going to be suffering from a broken heart,” or something in the near future. I know I can take the “is” out now, but it reminds me of a better time, back when FaceBook was only college kids, back when Pluto was a planet, back when we just best friends and the details of our relationship didn’t matter.

Sometimes I wish we never left stupid MySpace in the first place. After all of this drama, those incessant offers of free Macy’s gift cards just don’t seem so bad anymore. You’ll still be in my “Top 8“ when you’re ready, I’ll be waiting.

Goodbye dude,

Ian

P.S. Accept my invite to Zombies so I get some points. It’s theleast you can do, asshole.

I write this as I finish, well as Akun (my Sherpa,) finishes the final check on our equipment. Moments from now, we will begin our ascent to the Day 1 base camp, our first step in conquering your peak and thus, defeating you.You have been the center of my nightmares for years now, ever since you claimed the life of my father in early 1997, and now you are about to pay dearly. My father was trying to punish you for killing his father on one of the initial attempts at scaling you in 1936. My grandfather was a good family man, and you decided to blow him off the south face of the mountain without hesitation. Then, in some horrible déjà vu, you decided to cut my father off from rescue with snow storm after snow storm, slowly freezing him to death. Why must you single out my linage in your violent outbursts? What did we ever do to you?

I am not some blood crazed maniac. I have spent days on end considering how to deal with my father’s death. My decision to climb you came after much deliberation. Many of my friends suggested I file a civil suit against you, to try and hurt you financially… but I passed on such a passive aggressive approach. One friend suggested releasing large amounts of CFCs into the atmosphere in order to slowly shift the climate, reducing the snow cover on your hollowed peaks and rendering you weak. I don’t have time for such methods.

I will climb you because that is the only way to destroy you once and for all, and to bring the souls of my family back to sea level. Our family crest, sewn onto an American flag, will pierce your heart, which Akun tells me is at the very top of the mountain. I hope you will understand that you brought this onto yourself. You choose to make yourself the tallest and most dangerous mountain in the world. You choose to have radical weather patterns and consistently freezing conditions. You choose this life.

And just so you know, I have an 8-year-old son who has already pledged to continue our fight if you should find a way to kill me as well. So why not just let me end you now?

There are certain celebrities that can get away with just about anything and still keep their street cred.  Alec Baldwin is one of those stars who can turn lemons in to lemon spritzers.  2007 was a year Alec would soon like to forget.  His well-publicized battle with his ex-wife and daughter made news world-wide.  The threatening voicemail he left for his 12-year-old daughter became thing of legend.  Even Pat O’Brien was jealous how much poor judgement Alec could use on the phone.  The difference is that Alec has the seductive voice to pull it off.  Listening to his call sorta made me want to buy an expensive foreign car.  It was unintentional but his voice is just that commanding.

   2008 was another story for Alec, with 30 Rock skyrocketing and his first Emmy win.  It’s a brave new world for Alec where he will have his pick of roles and money to burn. You can deny that Alec is a “great actor” but you can’t deny his vocal chords are made of spun gold.  PURE, Rumpelstiltskin spun gold!  How good is he?  He was able to take a script of ordinary plumbing references and cause massive eargasms around the world for his performance in the Liquid Plumber Foaming Pipe Snake commercial(A reason not to fast forward through commercial breaks!).  Few people on this earth have enough presence to command total awe over something so gross.  He had me daydreaming about riding on the back of the mystical foaming pipe snake as we whirled around my plugged up toilet bowl.  Alec Baldwin is that good.

   Because Alec was able to make Liquid Plumber “hip” (essentially a fluid based turd-buster) I wonder if other advertisers will take those hard to market items and utilize other fascinating celebrities.  Christopher Walken could surely make Cream of Wheat sexy?  I could probably be convinced that I needed a new cheese shredder if Clint Howard said so.  Especially if his brother directed the commercial!  It terrifies me to think of what most of us wouldn’t do for a David Archuleta endorsed ziplock bag?

He euery body! Didd your hear about te new iPhone app? Now ou can updarte your blog from your6 phon!

Awesome!

I. cant’ telll u how mamy times im bored waiting 4 the doctor, onn the subway, or in a conv2ersation wit someone wen i just needa update my blog! now i can do it with tis app! ,

OOO wait, my frend adam is her and i wanna show him my litezabber app. hold on.

75394

k. he thout it was dumb.

Butt now i can com on her and say wuts on mymind wenever i want. 63. hangon.adam is trying to tak it. hangon.

521 l .

hangon.

253246

ok i got it bak.

2day i went to the lib to study chem (<ug!) an then got bord so i bought the new rollingstone. i red a lot uf it.

3q4.

stup adam. stup, trying to tak my iPhone. I am making a post on myblog. yeh. you can update your blog frum yer iPhone now. i no it coo.

234623-

stup.

521111111k15

stuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.

3.

7235Dd

i amm gonna sho him my drinking beer app so he gos away.

2342

r;

adam is cool.

235261

i didnt rite that. adam did. adam is stupid. well i hop i update mor so i dont gett bord evr again!! 1

pease.

Sent from my iPhone.

By Overly Self-Conscious Guy Who Is Also Prone To Extremes

Possibility A

My new short hair makes me look young and glamorous, and my peers are now intimidated when in my presence. All feel inferior when in my vicinity, and as a result, find themselves speechless when searching for the words to express the respect and fear my haircut inspires. All have also decided that I now look like Russell Crowe in the Gladiator movie – a somewhat heavier, pale version of that guy yes, but everyone recognizes that in the days of old, extra pounds and a wan complexion signified wealth and power. My gladiator haircut has indeed accentuated my aristocratic superiority to the point that I am now entirely unapproachable to the common man.

Possibility B

My peers are so disgusted by my pathetic attempt to be accepted in society with this shitty ten dollar Great Clips cut that they would almost certainly vomit were they to even consider ever talking to me again. My hair is symbolic of the failure that is my existence – a total disaster with no redeeming qualities; not normal, but not endearing either. Rather than wonder why no one has commented on my haircut, I should just be grateful that no one killed me for being such a loser.

Possibility C

Wore hat most of the day.

To: Employee List
Subject: Here comes the PARTY MAN!!!!!

Let’s all stop pretending what happened last year didn’t happen. It was a party, stuff happens, and stuff definitely happened. With the second annual Morris Management Holiday Bash coming up in barely a week… we need to get ourselves properly prepared. That means recognizing that we made some mistakes, and that we are going to gladly make them again. Now, I know a few of us have been “committed” to AA, per the terms of our disciplinary actions, but nobody is riding this horse sober on Saturday. Not Myself, not Bill, not weak livered Tina. We are all going hard.

The rumor is, beer and wine only, but we all went to college… so I’m going to need each of you to bring at least a flask worth (hell, I got mine on me now) of something above 80 proof. I’ll take it from there. I’ll make sure that wine is full of whisky, if you know what I mean.

I will also once again be administering and supervising the “Opium Den” in the supply closet, out from under the watchful eye of management. As a note though, no Opium this year, keep the stuff green and plentiful. I don’t want anyone going into shock or seizures or whatever bullshit Tina lets her body get away with. (I still love you Tina) This car will just be burning coal, ya hear?

Finally, I need someone to step up and offer their pad for the after party. I unfortunately do not have a home currently. I was forced to vacate my apartment last Monday due to a skirmish I had with the land lady over the recycling policy, and therefore I am sleeping on couch in my little brother’s dorm. Batman’s Bat cave is full of Bats, you know? So someone take the cake.

The Party Man is ready to Party and he hopes you are to.

Sincerely,
PARTY MAN (John, from Accounting)

Corruption [kuh-ruhp-shuh n]:  The act of corrupting or state of being corrupt. See also:

Like carbon dioxide, this ever-present danger will poison and kill you before you can even detect a problem. Here are five warning signs to help sniff out a crooked co-worker:

1. Your co-worker collects posters of the Russian oligarchs.

2. Your co-worker finds a way to work embezzlement into every sentence.  “Are you going to finish those pretzels or can I embezzle some?”, “How were drinks last night with Nancy? Did you take her home and embezzle her?” or “Oh what am I working on right now? This and that … you know, not embezzlement (NERVOUS LAUGHTER).”

3. Your co-worker has Chicago roots and a Polish name that sounds like the phonetic spelling of a sneeze.

4. Your co-worker lapses into fits of paranoia, often accusing you of being “more wired than O’Hare International Airport on a moonless night.”

5. Your co-worker keeps trying to sell you.

Heeeeyyy! Every want to make a porno? A real porno, with hot babes willing to do anything to you! Sounds Good?

Ultimate pleasures (LLC) is looking for up and cumming porn stars to act in our new series of online videos. The hours are great and you will be paid in cash and sex!

Male: (45 Yrs++)

We’re looking someone preferably overweight and with spotted balding. You should have a below average size penis and the ability to get a maximum of 60% stiffness.

• Glasses and a mustache are a must
• Minimum of 2 inches of pubic hair
• Old faded tribal tattoos
• Oddly colored semen or skin condition -a plus

No experience required! Our girls will keep going no matter how bad you are! You will be having sex with the prettiest girl we could cast, so it’s imperative that you are repulsive enough to cause our viewers to fast-forward or maybe purchase one of our lesbian videos.

Please email a Resume, Cover Letter and Dick-Shot with “Grey Nut Hair” in the subject.

• Compensation: Cash and Sex
• Principals only. Recruiters, please don’t contact this job poster.
• Please, no phone calls about this job!
• Please do not contact job poster about other services, products or commercial interests.

Whoa, Whoa, Whoa… accusations have been flying ever since Rudy’s Bar & Grill burned down, and I think it is totally unfair to put ALL of the blame on my shoulders.  Sure, a couple drunken college students may have seen me strike the match, but that’s blurry at best, and also, there is a lot more to fire than a spark.

As Billy Joel sang, ironically as stage caught on fire Thursday night, “We didn’t start the fire, it was always burning since the world’s been turning” it wasn’t one person’s fault, you know? Now I’ll admit I did start the fire, the physical fire per say, but Rudy made a lot of enemies when he revoked the unlimited wings night. I mean, that was a tradition for all of us hard working “Joes” and “Janes” but no, one little bump in the road for the economy and he goes back to the ridiculous price of 39 cents per wing. More than one person had blood on their minds.

And who put gasoline all over the floor, hmm? Who? I mean, the fire would never have spread so far if it wasn’t for all that gas. Maybe Rudy did it himself, ever think of that? And I’ve heard the assertions that someone saw my brother Tim spreading “some clear liquid” on the floor during the karaoke portion of night, but that’s simply hearsay.

Sure, Timmy works at the Mobil Station on 3^rd Avenue, but that doesn’t add up to anything. And even if the police can conger up some witness who saw him take a gas can out of the trunk of his Camry, that doesn’t equal a fire. There’s more to fire than gas and matches.

Oh, and Bud Light pitchers go from 10 dollars to 12 dollars, YEAH OK… why not cut my arm off and ask me to chop down a Christmas tree. Rudy knew I had just lost my job, and he comes up to me and the boys like it’s no big deal.

Also, what happened to the sprinkler system? Ever think about that? The whole mess could have been cleared up if Rudy hadn’t skipped out on much needed maintenance. How’d your penny pinching work out on that one Rudy? You cheap bastard. And don’t even dare bring up the fact that I used to install sprinkler systems, I just lost that job remember? I barely remember how those things work… the nerve of you people.

By Meatloaf

This is to all the women out there that have listened to my song “Bat Out of Hell” and now think of me differently.  I just want to say to all of you that I’m the same guy.  Same guy here, okay.  In my song I make myself out to be this crazy wild guy that just wants sex and stuff.  I’m not really like that.  I’m not.  I’m a good guy.  Really.  I’m the same guy that “would do anything for love.” Remember that?  That was me.

I used something called an artistic license.  It’s poetry.  I exaggerate certain things to make them more appealing and sound better and more badass and stuff.  I’ve never “hit the highway like a battering ram.”  Never. Oh and on a “silver black phantom bike” for that matter.  Come on.  Nobody has a silver black phantom bike, but it sounds fuckin’ sweet right?

Look, last time I tried talking to a woman you know what she said?  She called me a, “Sinner before the gates of heaven” and then ran away screaming, “Bat out of hell! Bat out of hell!”  I mean Jesus, come on!  Cut me some slack here.  Everybody was like, looking at me and stuff.  It was really embarrassing.

I’m a big teddy bear.  Just look at me.  It’s me.  Meat.  Everyone’s favorite Loaf.  And I need affection too.   I need someone to take the words right out of my mouth.  Take them.  They’re yours.  I’ve giving them to you.  Okay?  So we’re good?  Everything cool?  Look I just really want to have sex.  Please?