YSaC, Vol. 953: It’s very far away, but it’s growing day by day.
Don’t look now, but I think this post is COMING RIGHT AT US!
check this’ post out dishwasher/prep cook ready to work; asp asp asp
late’s start from’ here my name is ricky
i’ been in ;the restaurant doing
dish washing, around 3-to 4 year
if your looking’ for someone
to work’ out i’m your guy
i work for you the way you
wan’t me to i’m ready to work please try me out if hired
asp any more information ‘about me please; feel free to call
Contact me at ########## Ask for Ricky
- it’s ok to contact this poster if you are a potential employer or other principal
- Principals only. Recruiters, please don’t contact this job seeker.
- it’s NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
PostingID: ##########
The thing I can’t understand about apostrophes is this – most changes to language make it SIMPLER over time. We don’t say “am not” because “ain’t” is shorter. “Going to” becomes “gonna.” “Gadzooks” is reduced to a simple “lol.”
But apostrophes seem to be doing just the opposite. Why are people adding more and more of them? Wouldn’t it be simpler to leave them out where they’re needed than to constantly add them in places where they’re not? (For the definitive analysis of this phenomenon (doot doo da doo do) check out “Apostrophe Abuse” in the blog roll.)
And of course, this guy takes it one step further. Gratuitous semi-colons – that’s the wave of the future. Or a new wave band from the past. I can never remember which.
I should also confess that before I looked at this ad, I didn’t even know there WAS a “<big>” tag, let alone the horrible consequences of using a lot more of those than of the “</big>” tag.
Thanks for the link, Jazcat!
When Star Wars fanboys are forced to leave the house and get jobs: note to said fanboys: designing a job “application” like the “crawl” does not make you a more-attractive employee option.
That’s funny Lola, I could only adore once, so there you go.
When hilarious fanboys are forced to leave the house and the jobs they get allow them to make movies:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z5W8EBHNsLc
If it did land them an interview though, it would make for an interesting conversation.
Employer: “So, tell me a little about yourself.”
Hopeful: “A long time ago, in a womb far, far away, a wormhole in space delivered me into the hands of rebel forces–”
Employer: “Uh, yeah, um, how ’bout we skip to the part where the Jedi can’t seem to hold down a job?”
:considers rewriting resume:
This is why I adore you, ESP.
Well, in all fairness, it is rather difficult to make it to your 3:00 dishwashing shift on a regular basis when you’ve got Storm Troopers on your ass all the time, now isn’t it?
[waves] These aren’t the chafing dishes you’re looking for.
Plus, the licensing rights to play the Star Wars Main Title every time Sparky walks into the kitchen are just a bear.
In fairness, wouldn’t an asp have difficulty typing properly?
I would think the no arms/hands issue would be a detriment…
Unless it was a spitting asp, then it would just be a really slow process…
You could teach it to type with its tail, but in the end you’d have a pretty sore asp.
And that might make it upset, as well. Nobody wants their asp to feel angry.
My asp kept overeating. Now I have a fat asp.
You could teach it to type by banging its head on the keys, but that might damage its tiny asp brain and you’d be stuck with a dumb asp.
Though it might be worse to send this guy to college, because then you’d have a smart asp on your hands.
Good thing we don’t have any of those smart asps here at YSaC 😉
If you feel a sharp pain when you sit, it’s time to get off your asp.
And don’t let a toddler grab it by the tail, cause then your asp would be dragging.
When your asp dies you can use it to fertilize your lawn, and then your asp will be grass.
Don’t let your asp bite through things or you’ll be stuck with a bunch of asp holes.
Especially your stereo, ’cause then you would have a loud asp hole, and your liquor, which would make for a drunk asp hole.
Llamanun forbid that your asp has an accident, then you’d need asp wipes.
Hmm, ASP™ is the name of a line of collapsible batons used in law enforcement.
It’s like poor Rickie is being beaten in the ad . . .
CapnMac — this is your fault.
Being a geeky person, ASP is also a web development language, so with most ASP developers using hands and arms isn’t the issue, it’s making a coherent sentence.
It might be. I don’t know, ask him.
Asp a silly question ….
Giraffe.
Episode CMLII
It is a period of punctuation war
Rebel YSaCers, striking from
their hidden base, won their
first victory against the evil
Semicolonial Empire…
EDIT: Aww, drmk (BBUH) disabled the big and small HTML tags in comments. Pretend that’s incrementally sized to look like the opening Star Wars crawl.
Our benevolent overlords know us too well.
I’ll just go directly to the corner.
I’ll just go ahead and make the “stepped crankshaft” joke.
I’ll just pretend I understand MF’s joke.
I’ll just pretend I pretended to understand MF’s joke, but I’ll really just think about kittens for a bit.
[corey] The crankshaft is, in large part, the thing in an engine that makes whatever the engine is put in do whatever it’s supposed to — like spin the blade(s) on your lawnmower, to give the simplest example. The business end (the bit things outside the engine are attached to) can come in different sizes (diameter and length) and sometimes it can come in a “stepped” configuration (one diameter for a certain length, then stepping up to a bigger diameter maybe halfway down) for when you want to attach, say, two belts connected to two pulleys designed to turn at different speeds onto one shaft. [/corey]
We now return you to your regularly scheduled hey, look, pie!
Freaky puppy…this was…umm…
So.Not.Helpful
Look at it like this. Take an umbrella. Now open it up. (Make sure you’re outside to avoid bad luck and freaking out the cat.) Now, take both hands and place it on the shaft and start spinning it around so the umbrella goes “Weeee!” (Note: It may not actually say “Weeee!” but I assure you it wants to.) You’ve just sorta imitated what an engine does. Your body is the engine, whatever you ate is the fuel, your arms acted like the connecting rods that grip the crankshaft (the shaft of the umbrella in this case) and made it spin. Ever seen one of those old-timey hand drills with the C-shaped handle (like this)? That’s almost exactly what a crankshaft looks like, and your hands on that drill work just like the connecting rod, rotating that thing around and drilling into wood. Except instead of drilling into wood you’re spinning a lawnmower blade or whatever. (And might I add, it would suck to cut grass like that.)
Engines turn energy into work. The crankshaft is the bit that does the work. Every other part of an engine is for creating energy (burning gas) and managing its byproduct (exhaust).
Uh…yeah…
I like pie.
[From the Future]
What MF war referring to is a long, cylindrical machine part that could be appreciated–if with some squinting and license–as a “stepped upon” pecil-like object.
In gratuitous example, see: http://www.needhp.com/images/products/detail/NewFord2.3Crankshaft.jpg
What MF got caught up in was some of the mechanics of taking a linear–in-out–motion and making it a rotary one. E.g.: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/a/ac/Cshaft.gif
Our MF may have become distracted by the prurient imagery of a small engine with a single piston heaving in and out to make the motor go.
Star Wars jokes aside, I initially read that as Sparky becoming increasingly desperate as he typed. Like, “Hey, I’m a dishwasher. Been doing it for years, so I’ve gotten pretty good at it. Seriously, if you want someone to wash dishes, I’m totally your guy, I’ll do a really awesome job, you’ve never seen dishes so clean! Just ask any of my last employers, they’ll tell you what an incredible job I did, dishes so clean you could practically eat off them, so you totally want to hire me because I’m awesome at my job OH GOD PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE CALL ME, HERE’S MY NUMBER, MY HAND IS LITERALLY HOVERING RIGHT OVER MY PHONE RIGHT NOW SO PLEASE CALL AND HIRE ME I’LL BE GOOD I PROMISE, I’LL MAKE YOU SO HAPPY YOU’LL NEVER WANT ANOTHER DISHWASHER AGAIN OH GOD MY ARM IS CRAM P
II N
G//////”
You can literally see the point where Sparky’s meth kicked in.
I imagine shortly after that post he went and sat in a corner, rocking back and forth and muttering “So clean … so clean …”
“dishes so clean you could practically eat off them”
Now I must go to Staples for more screen wipes!
I especially like how he included the modifier “practically”; I can picture Sparky looking at the still-dirty dishes and going, “Meh, close enough.”
“Yeah, just eat around that bit of baked-on meatloaf, it’ll be fine.”
“Yesterday’s meatloaf and today’s meatloaf – now on one plate!”
If only I could also have tomorrow’s meatloaf. Oh, well, I guess two out of three ain’t bad.
Fun Fact*: The “Blue Plate Special” was a means by which diners and restaurants of lesser repute would pawn off elderly leftovers that had started to go off. Despite popular opinion, the special got its name from the colour of mold that had begun to form on, and was subsequently scraped off the geriatric foodstuffs prior to serving. While these specials were, in fact, served on blue plates, the colour was chosen to help conceal any mold the cook failed to scrape off.
* not.a.fact.
That’s the awesomest* unfactoid I’ve read today!
*Not.a.word.
“If only I could also have tomorrow’s meatloaf. Oh, well, I guess two out of three ain’t bad.”
I see what you did there – subtle and nicely done.
Thank you, Angel. You’ve got me all figured out, subtle and well done.* 😀
(I almost said, “You’ve got me pegged,” but I’ve been reading too much fanfic lately so I’ll just be over here in the corner.)
*This may not actually be true. Unless “subtle” means “hilarious” and “well done” means “half baked.”
I love meatloaf. I would do anything for it, but I won’t do that.
Babby we can talk all night but that ain’t getting us nowhere…
You took the words right out of my mouth…
I’m still mentally grappling with how Ricky’s experience varies from -3 (rendered as three-minus in the ad) to 4 years?
Does this mean he got time off for dishwashing behaviour down to County?
Eyes … bleeding … can’t … snark …
:falls twitching to the floor:
(sweeps
sjgc away) We need a new ghostcat.I got better 🙂
Luckily I keep a box of eyes handy for just such an occasion.
I felt the need to duck as I continued reading it.
If you can read this, you don’t need glasses.
But I can read it and I do need glasses. :/
If you didn’t before, you do now.
While the link dan provided for phenomenon is a classic and will be stuck in my head all day, I found this one to be even more appropriate. Plus, Sandra Bullock.
I must admit to a HUGE girl crush on Ms. Bullock….have had since “While You Were Sleeping”.
Here, here until she married the “monster guy”.
Artsy, do you mean there, there or hear, hear?
Who know? What day is it again?
Tuesday
October
Petunia
I poked the catulator and he said, “Tuna”.
It must be Tunaday, but then again for the catulator every day is Tunaday.
Yahtzee!
Double Yahtzee!
Awww … Windy sank my Battleship!
Anyone up for a round of Dallas – The Board Game?
Only if I can trade my telescope for magic
beanslegumes.Completely OT — what was the name of the muppet that sang “Mahna Mahna”?
According to the Muppet Wiki (really? Yes, really), his name was Mahna Mahna.
http://muppet.wikia.com/wiki/Mahna_Mahna_(character)
I learn something new every day here at YSaC. Thanks LRC.
Wow. There really is a Wiki for everything.
:adds “Rule 34 Wiki” to List Of Things I Will Never Google:
There’s a Wiki for that.
Even more off topic: Every time we hear someone use the word “phenomenon” (which is surprisingly more often than you would think), my kids and I follow it up with “Doo Doo Da DooDoo”.
Because we are Muppet dorks.
Would be very funny to be in the same room with you and family, when someone says The P Word, and we all follow it up. 8)
It is contagious, I promise. The next time you hear someone say phenomenon, you WILL find yourself fighting off the urge to back up sing that Muppet song.
“Fighting off”?
drmk and I? That’s our song.
This is what happens when Sparky tries to write an ad, all the while running around his efficiency in the I-thought-chicks-dig-those satin boxers with the lips all over them, trying to avoid being bitten by the asp that’s escaped from his cage.
Or, it might have been the cobra.
Or, the rattlesnake.
Sparky’s also a hoarder.
Maybe, but the cages and tanks are so clean!
So fresh and so clean, clean…
Shirley there must be other ways to advertise Sparky’s obvious talents in the hygiene department? Could he/she diversify into vehicles? We’ve had plenty here on YSaC that could do with some TLC and tidying up (what’s he like with bullet holes? bees? lack of parts?)
Answers in font size 10 only.
Yes and don’t call me Shirley.
The posts are coming from inside the house!
My posts came from Home Depot.
They went on sale at Lowe’s right after you left HD . . .
Sparkie is having some trouble controlling THE VOLUME OF HIS VOICE! Also, I think the internal monologue is broken.
Aren’t you that guy?
Well, I’m not NOT that guy.
That guy NEVER thinks he’s THAT guy….
🙂
That guy is Mr. Winkey.
TM or whatever your name is today (I can’t keep up) :::: When I read today’s post all I could think about was you with way tooooo much coffee. (I think I needed more semi-colons: but I didn’t now where they should go. No don’t tell me.)
I’m… honored?
Artsy, I think Taco has infected you. I have a slightly used k if you want it.
Thanks Kelli — I knew I dropped it someplace.
Wow, Tac–er, ChipotleDruid, that’s really big.
Ooops, once again I’ve encouraged you.
That’s what happens when you have a massive link; sooner or later you end up with an enlarged comment.
as long as it doesn’t last more than 4 hours ….
Seriously now…gentlemen in the audience?
Four hours?
FOUR hours?
FOUR HOURS?
Sounds incredibly painful.
Agreed. Most uncomfortable.
Are you speaking from experience or conjecture IF?
Yes, inquiring minds want to know.
I’m blue da bu de da bu di…
Darnit Taco, I was gonna use the blockquotes to post something funny…
**kicks rock sadly**
Oh well. In any event,
Ohhhh….
You boys stop playing with the style sheet!
*stern librarian voice and face*
kelli, enjoy your day in the box. If the glue fumes are too strong, go ahead and put the top down.
Now I have been sent to box twice for one post. 🙂
Is that considered cruel and unusual punishment? Unless you’re in Shawshank… They’ll put you in The Box for any damn thing they want…
Bombdude, what IS your avatar? I keep seeing a very complicated device to get a sugar cube into a boat-shaped cup of tea. Am I close?
Given the handle, I’m betting on a picture of a robotic bomb-defuser.
Or a blender. It could be a blender.
:squints at avatar:
Maybe a pastamaker?
I think it’s Ronco’s Pocket Fisherman.
Bombdude’s motto: Get reel!
Fido, the killer robot dog.*
HERE TO ENSLAVE MANKIND WITH HIS ROBO-DOGGINESS! BUT, CAN HE DEFEAT EVIL DUCK?! STAY TUNED!
I need some coffee.
*My vote goes with IF: Bomb diffuser robot, methinks.
I think IF is right, too.
It’s probably a blender.
Taco, don’t you want to DEFUSE the bomb in the hopes that it doesn’t make you DIFFUSE?
Nope. I wish to make bombs fully miscible with water.
You’re all wrong.
It’s one of those convenient devices for trimming nose hair.
Or a slap-chop.
Or a shoehorn.
Or a miniature crane, made from Legos.
Or a plant stand.
IF’s right… It could be a blender.
But it isn’t, it’s an ANDROS bomb disposal robot. Not for actually defusing bombs, since it doesn’t have that kind of manual dexterity. More for shooting, XRAY’ing or picking up and depositing the device into the TCV (total containment vessel) without the inherent loss of life, should the device function as designed….
Do you at least make it fight other robots in gladiatorial combat?
We all need to get together and make an instructable on how to turn a spare ANDROS into a blender.
But robots have feet, don’t they? Or treads? Okay, I’m off to visit Grampa Google.
Those are treads, 4 of them. The tips go up and down to be able to traverse stairs, rubble, what have you… They are pretty slow, on purpose, but they pack a wallop, a .50 cal. wallop. So it would be more like a duel at 20 paces, er… tread lengths, rather than gladiatorial combat.
Oh, great. If you succeed in that, not only will we never be able to carry any liquids on flights, we’ll have to be dehydrated before we board. And they’ll charge a dehydration fee!
No, I think you’re wrong there. The fee will be for re-hydration. Sure, they’ll turn us into dust for free, but re-hydration, that will cost extra.
Also insurance rackets will pop up. “Nice little pile of dust you got there. Shame if anything should happen to it.”
That’s true. I mean, once you’re dust, what are you gonna do? Make the TSA agent sneeze? Then they’ll spend half an hour sweeping you up, and lord know if they’ll get bits of someone else mixed in with you. Next thing you’re rehydrated at your destination with new and unfamiliar bits of anatomy in places they have no business being and a $50 fee for your trouble.
“I’d like to register a stern complaint with the TSA.”
“What seems to be the trouble?”
“They got my dehydrated self mixed in with someone else. Now my butt cheeks have nipples, and they’re lactating.”
I think I saw The Gratuitous Semicolons open for Frazier Chorus at some dive in the West End back in ’87.
The Gratuitous Semicolons is the name of my Modern English cover band.
Didn’t the guitarist from Egregious Umlauts break away and join Gratuitous Semicolons last year?
Indeed, you remember correctly. There was a battle about the lead singer and the guitarist receiving double top billing, and at the same time GS was having tremendous timing problems. GS offered the guitarist the position he was looking for in the group, which kind of confirmed EU’s suspicions about his ego. I think EU came to realize after the departure that even though they now had made their point, it was the end.
You would have thought that GS would have paused for a bit to think about what they were doing.
I went to that show. But weren’t they still called The Gratuitous Transvestite Hermaphrodites then?
That would explain why the second set consisted entirely of selections from Hedwig and the Angry Inch.
Bianchi: Ginger Ale, it would seem, stings worse than other sodas when ejected nasally.
I think Nasal Ale Cannon opened for Gratuitous Transvestite Hermaphrodites during their last tour, actually.
I thought that was Natal Ale Cannon?
Still worse: Anal Nail Cannon.
:cringe:
*curls in fetal position*
How is it possible that I’ve never thought about transvestite hermaphrodites before?
You don’t spend enough time here?
I believe it was the philosopher Sarajean80 who once said, “The answer to so many of life’s mysteries is Tranny Jesus.”
How can a hermaphrodite be a transvestite? And why did iPhone autocomplete offer both words after only a few letters were typed?
Wearing a skirt and a wifebeater? A blouse and plum smugglers? I imagine hermaphroditic transvestites are quite indecisive.
Also, your iPhone is secretly a sexual deviant. I’d check your Safari history.
IF – West End? You from ’round these parts? (Dallas, I mean)
Negative, ghost rider. Currently a Michigander. I can’t take the heat – was in Tucson for 4 days last week and my body’s still recovering from the desert air.
(I was referencing this West End.)
Obviously, since Frazier Chorus was a British band.
At least it’s warm here IF. Sure, we will probably hit 100 next month, but it’s a dry heat, kind of like an oven.
Ahhh….makes sense now…though I’ve no idea who/what Frazier Chorus is/was.
Well, I do hate going to to the gym, but I’m not sure how you working out will work for me.
I’m not sure, but I think I should be creeped out by this.
I really think there’s a “Hey Mickey” parody lurking here. Something like “Hey Ricky, you’re so loud, you hurt my ears, hey Ricky.” I would say something about Ricky being big, but I don’t have time to go to my corner right now.
“Hey, Ricky, you’re so big
You’re so big you broke my wig
Hey Ricky
Hey Ricky”
(Apologies to both Toni Basil and the late Ricky Wilson of the B-52s, who came immediately to mind when I began composing this.)
If Ricky’s largess broke your wig… You’re doin’ it wrong…
BD, but what if you keep hitting your wig on the roof of the car? That’s what I’m talking about!
Errr … I’ll get me coat.
Touche, I guess that’s a good rendition then…
Sorry your wig blew up like that, Ricky.
I told Ricky not to use Sterno when he ran out of hair gel.
Seriously, Toni Basil owes us ALL a thousand apologies for ever conceiving that song.
I usually like to stand in the path of a rush of words and let the breeze blow through my hair. Unfortunately, now I need another shower because my hair smells like desperation and cheap mints.
In this instance, I parse desperation as “didn’t shower today or yesterday and attempted to hide this fact by a marinade of Brut and Right Guard.”
[begin rant]
Which brings me to one of my TOP FIVE PET PEEVES – OF.ALL.TIME.
Why, why, oh why do young men think that if a little bit of this smells yummy on them, then a whole bottle of the shit smells awesome???
Clue – it doesn’t.
What it does do is give me a headache, and everything I eat for the next few hours tastes like whatever slime you’ve spread all over you.
p.s. young women are just as guilty sometimes
[/end rant]
“Axe: What stupid smells like.”
I hear you, CJ.
“Axe: If you can’t smell good, smell a lot!”
“Axe: Now with more Sweaty Weasel Testicles!”
Who needs a sense of smell anyway?
Especially if you and your smelly friends just come from playing soccer and don’t take a shower first. GET OUT OF MY CAR!!!!!
AXE: Now with LOCKER ROOM SWEAT for ADDED NAUSEA!
Changing during gym is not a fun thing when the guy with the locker next to you is an Axe junkie.
“Axe junkie”, without context, is awesome.
The only problem with Right Guard is that you’ve got to find something else to stink up your left side.
I’ve never met a Right Guard that smells good. Punters tend to have much better olfactory presentations on the whole.
Poor Ricky. You know what they say about guys who use the [big] tag too much…
They run out of ink quickly?
They buy comically overpowered printers?
They use the [big] tag too much?
nobody believes them anymore …
They end up writing websites about time being a 4-day cube?
You mean it’s not?!?!
my illusions, they have been shattered.
The CL ad was so big and scary it frightened my Google ad away.
I really like the fact that we have all just moved past the point where we are commenting on the futility of posting on CL to get a job rather than looking for job posts or filling out applications. What a jaded bunch of snarkers. *group hug*
There comes a point at which you just run out of things to say about the nature of the post and instead just turn to the substance for material. Which is great, because you can make just about anything out of alphabet goop.
We are like sports commentators on the daily trainwreck of CL. Someday, we may be asked to give the eulogy.
Well, it could also be a day when it took twenty days for the mortgage company to mail a letter saying “pay us $1500 in 30 days or we will street you.” Nothing like being broke and potentially homeless–with an entire house-full of “stuff” to make a thing like searching for a job to seem trivial . . .
I hear ya, Capn. We have been thrown under the bus by the big, wealthy types who created this economy but have not suffered appreciably for it.
*pushes soap box back under bean bag*
*digs out soap box*
I hear ya, Capn. We have been thrown under the bus by the big, wealthy types who created this economy but have not suffered appreciably for it.
*pushes soap box back under bean bag*
There’s an echo in here.
This one is only tangentially inspired by today’s post, but I did use GarbanzoGaucho’s “Thod” in this one.
When Thod bought the house, he knew it was a fixer-upper. It wasn’t merely that the house was in a relative state of disrepair — he was fully prepared to put in quite a bit of work to bring it up to code in that regard — but the previous owners had also left the place absolutely filthy. This wasn’t just letting the place go undusted for some significant period of time, this was as if centuries of dust and dirt that had moved in and started vigorously reproducing.
It wasn’t that Thod was a stranger to dirt, he was just wholly unfamiliar with such a degree of it. He had spent his entire life living in the concrete jungles of New York City. He last had a small 8th floor apartment on the lower east side. It wasn’t much, but it was home, and the convenience of living in a big city where most of what you could ever want was within walking distance, was a significant draw. What he wanted that wasn’t nearby could usually be reached easily by bus and subway — nobody really drove in the city, partly because the traffic was usually terrible, and also because there was never anywhere to park.
But while the convenience factor was high, the neighbourhood more than mitigated that. When it wasn’t loud and sometimes disturbing noises coming from any of the apartments above, below, across, or to either side of him (and the attendant police visits they often generated), or the general dirtiness of the city, it was the rest of the neighbourhood itself that ultimately did in his love of city living. His was an are of higher than average crime, a fact that was persistently in the back of his mind but generally something that happened somewhere he wasn’t.
That changed, as such things tend to do, when he he waylaid from behind and mugged for all of the $16 and a half-off coupon for Cheez Whiz he had on his person. For whatever reason, more than the mugging itself, he was bothered by the broken end of the thing he was knocked to the ground with: A stale French loaf. The vaudevillian absurdity of it suddenly became a symbol for everything he hated about living here, and cemented in his mind a decision he didn’t even know he was thinking about: He had to get the hell away from city life.
And that is exactly what he did. He didn’t have much money at all, but he did manage to find a place just outside a quiet little town so far off the beaten path that he couldn’t even see his nearest neighbor, and that suited him just fine. It was quiet, with only the sound of nature and the distant sound of a passing car from the road his house was set more than a hundred feed away from. He got it dirt cheap, and he was beginning to realize that the “dirt” part played a much bigger role in that equation than he thought.
He tried to grant himself some latitude for his complete lack of experience in matters rural, but even so his patience was near to unraveling. He swept and swept, but for every layer of dirt he whisked into a dustpan, another was waiting below. He had bins of dirt already filled with no end in sight. He had initially tried mopping, but that just created a disgusting, muddy mess that still seemingly made no difference regardless of how many buckets of soapy water he changed.
He was starting to feel deep pangs of buyer’s remorse. It all felt so hopeless. He’d been trying to clean up for the past week and still hadn’t even gotten to the bits of the house that desperately needed repairs. Despondently, Thod let his broom fall to the ground as he walked over and slumped against a tree. He was beginning to get the very real impression that no matter how much he swept, mopped, or otherwise chipped away at all this dirt, he’d never strike concrete.
BTW — great web site!!!!
Why, thank you! It’s a fairly basic setup, but I didn’t want anything fancy-shmancy. Just something halfway respectable to post my drivel to. 🙂
I think you dropped this.
How do you know he didn’t live in an are? Huh? Or maybe what you don’t know is that the enter key on my work keyboard is dying!*
:tries to look inconspicuous:
Uh, never mind. I have no excuse for that. Fixed on the blog, at least.
* This is actually true, it just has nothing to do with what’s going on on the other side of the keyboard — unless you buy that my keyboard has sympathetic shakra lines.
** There’s also a superfluous “he” in there that should have said “was.” I’m just going to go ahead and blame that on a random cat running across my keyboard. At work.
How exactly is distance measured in feed? Feedbags laid end to end? Which kind of feed? Horse feed? Catfood? Chickenfeed? Inquiring minds want to know!
Yeah, another typo I missed on my first go round at not proofreading. Also fixed on the blog.
Monday are not gooder for typing.
We are becomming won!
M-O-O-N. That spells taco.
Clearly this guy thinks the job market, like the real estate market, is a buyer’s market. He thinks employers are so eager to hire people that they’ll be the ones doing the searching. Even if this were the case, the guy’s sales pitch needs better “curb appeal”. Mow the lawn (consistent font size that doesn’t make prospective employers’ eyes bleed). Paint the exterior (have post edited to make more sense). Paint the trim (clean up unnecessary punctuation). Of course curb appeal only works so well. Once the prospective employer gets the person in for an interview, internal changes need to be made. Recarpet and paint walls and ceiling (haircut and a change of clothing, covering tattoos of confederate flag, pot leaf, and skull and crossbones). Replace broken-down appliances (dentist, at the very least for flossing and whitening, possibly for capping and in the most extreme case dentures). Replace broken doors and seal holes in walls (clean up language, no more slouching, bathe thoroughly enough to remove pot smell). Add or replace light fixtures (eye appointment and new prescription glasses that aren’t covered in rhinestones). Even with all of this work, the seller still needs to be aware of an acceptable asking price compared to other properties in the neighborhood (asking minimum wage for whopper flopper or tips and possibly benefits for Olive Garden host). As this ad stands compared to real estate ads, Ricky will be lucky if the 9-year-old kid he shares with his baby mama hires him to sweep the sidewalk in front of her lemonade stand for 50 cents a day.
Cute Article on slightly OT bomb disposal robots. 8)
http://www.robotliving.com/robot-news/if-found-call-montreal-police-bomb-squad/
My favorite part is the label they had to put on the removable part. And staying on topic is so mainstream that I grilled cheese dragon soccer.*
*coherent sentences are also way too mainstream
OT:
Videos are up of the band’s superior-rated performance at District Festival.
The videos are the ones with the “play” button.
The trumpet on the end of the row looks eerily like the HS version of me.
O.O
This guy?
Less so up close. More so from far away and in a tux.
I think it’s the chin.
I must tell Collin that he resembles a magic taco when he wears a tux.
On second thought, nevermind.
Wow, Asto – really nice job. That’s an incredibly mature sound for a high school group. The tone is focused and balanced, and the intonation is pretty much dead on throughout. Your mallet percussion player is very impressive. I wish my high school band had sounded like that.
Well, it’s early, but I have been unwell most of the day. So I am going to deliver to kelli her Punchity Punch Punch and bid a G’Night to Bespin!
AAAAHAHH!!!! A Post! Run away! Run Away!
“Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right, into the valley of death rode the six hundred”…..
Lucy, you got some splainin’ to do!
I hope Ricky does lose my number.
*Leaning waaaaay back in chair*
Look, Ricky, I can understand that you need some work, but if I can’t look at your post without my eyes crossing, we have a problem.
I just hope he doesn’t do dishes like he does CL ads…
(“Boss, catch! *KRSH!* “GAAAH WHY!!!”)
Ricky formerly worked for the Swedish Chef, but had to leave after the bork bork bork/asp asp asp incident.
Well, Ms. C””J, as it’s Sunday and as I am feeling generous, I will let you out of the box with a warning: Don’t not snark again! Punchity Punch Punch!
Good Morning, 623 East 68th Street!
As Cleopatra said in the Pink Panther, “Get your feelthy hands off of my asp!”